


All This Could Be Yours

by OhMaven



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Implied Relationship, Implied mature content, Slow Burn, canon AU, rebelcaptain prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2018-10-05 17:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 30,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10313522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMaven/pseuds/OhMaven
Summary: RebelCaptain weekly prompts; a collection of drabbles centering around the relationship of Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor - with appearances from other Rogue One favorites. These are non-linear and not set within any established canon or canon divergent/au.





	1. A Hand to Hold

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little bit behind on the RebelCaptain prompts, so...expect like. Six in quick succession while I get caught up! Some of these are going to be more studies of the RebelCaptain relationship in the greater context of the rebellion, so don't be surprised if more of these are implied RebelCaptain or don't actually feature both characters. ^_^
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

She'd been shot.

Jyn _knew_ the sensation beyond a shadow of a doubt - after all, she'd been shot before. Searing fire melted the flesh of her thigh, and she could only hope it hadn't charred the bone as well. The ground rose to meet her back, stealing what little breath she had left.

“Sergeant!” One of the men in the unit shouted, and doubled back for her. If there was only one thing (among many) she respected the Pathfinders for, it was their refusal to leave anyone behind - even when it was sheer lunacy to do so. “Hey, Erso. Come on, we’re gonna get you up.”

A strong arm slid under her back; on her other side, rough hands tried to gently grip her arm through battle-hardened callouses and a touch more accustomed to blasters than other sentient beings. Between them, they got her upright, and dragged her to the cover where the others - including their field medic - waited.

Jyn felt stupid for getting shot, but to be honest, it was war and if you didn't get shot every now and then you probably weren't doing it right. The two privates settled her as easily on the ground as they could, and then went back to covering the wounded behind them.

“Okay, Erso. I’m gonna have to cut away your trousers to see this wound,” the medic - Wilo? Wylen? - spoke in a calm voice; detached. She wondered when he'd stopped going home and vomiting into the refresher. Maybe he hadn't. Jyn nodded once, and turned her face away from where the synthetic material of her pants had melted into her skin.

On her other side, a young soldier (shit, how young did the alliance take them? No, that was a stupid question, she'd been younger than this one) dropped his helmet and canteen next to her and extended his grimy hand to her. Jyn stared stupidly at him for a moment, this boy and his earnest, sympathetic eyes, before she realized he was offering his hand to hold.

The offer made it hard to breathe; how long had it been since she’d belonged? When was the last time anyone had cared this strongly about her? As she slid her hand into the boy soldier’s, all she could think about was Cassian - who even knew where he was right now? - and the way he looked at her sometimes, with so much compassion it made her chest feel tight. He'd been the beginning and this extension of his family, they were the continuation of that sense of _home._

Jyn lightly squeezed the offered hand - she’d sat still through worse, but the offer was impossible to refuse. So she smiled (or tried, it was hard when she was gritting her teeth like this) and managed to work out a quick, “thanks.”

Although the gratitude hadn't been directed at him, so much as at the long-absent Cassian Andor, the boy smiled back.


	2. Stardust

_“Your father would be proud of you.”_

The words wouldn't leave her head; not in the desperate minutes before Bodhi Rook had miraculously arrived to save them, not in the desperate days afterwards when she could barely walk and they hadn't known if Cassian would live, and certainly not in the weeks of grueling working and waiting and relocating to Hoth. Had they been the words of a dying man trying to bring comfort? Or had Cassian actually meant them?

Despite weeks of dwelling on the soft cadence of his voice as he'd spoken, of analyzing every potential meaning and intent behind why he’d said it, Jyn had never bothered to ask him. Her relationship with her father had been, at best, _complicated._ There were still days when she was so angry at Galen Erso for leaving her that she couldn’t breathe. There were still times when she hated him for being the reason her mother had chosen death over life with her child. Some nights Jyn woke with a start, filled with nothing more than the desire to shake them both until she could change the past. Every ounce of love she held for either parent was tied up with her anger, her regret, her constant questions, her feelings of abandonment.

For Jyn, the love and grief and loss she felt couldn't be as _simple_ as those things, and though she valued the idea of her father being proud of her - she wasn't sure she needed his validation, and certainly wasn't sure she'd earned it, or that Galen had any right to _give_ it.

And yet, Cassian had given voice to a deep yearning Jyn had tried so hard not to address, and she didn't know what to do with it.

Once Jyn had decided to ask Cassian about his intent behind the words (honestly, she'd decided she needed to talk through the chaos in her own head), she didn't actually know how to _approach_ it. He was still grounded from missions - both too valuable, and too fragile, to risk when he wasn't at full health. He had physical therapy almost every day, and she sent him to bed early almost every night- keeping a sharp eye to how gray his skin was underneath his naturally swarthy complexion. All of his time in between was spent rebuilding an Imperial security droid chassis.

She was not the only one grappling with grief, Jyn reminded herself.

Cassian didn't seem surprised, though, when she started hanging around while he made the repairs. At first, she sat in silence, some distance away. As hours melted into days, Jyn found herself scooting closer - found herself offering tools, and helping him wrestle the enormous metal torso when it wasn't sitting just right. If Cassian enjoyed the casual way they bumped shoulders and brushed hands, he never said as much. Instead, they mutually found reasons to be in one another’s space.

It had been almost a week of this, before Jyn finally worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been burning her up since that Scarif beach.

“Why did you say it, Cassian?” She was running her fingertips over a complicated-looking wrench, and missed the way Cassian startled - and the way he rapped his knuckles on teh stone floor. She did not miss the quiet swearing in his native Festian.

Jyn _never_ missed it when Cassian spoke in his native language, enjoying the way his voice deepened and smoothed out all at once over the words.

“Say what?” He asked, around the knuckles he'd popped into his mouth.

She had to swallow a smile, and kept her gaze down. “That my father would be proud.”

Cassian’s hand settled on her shoulder, and the touch drew her gaze up to his.

“I said it, because it’s true Jyn. I’ve never met the man, but it's very clear he loved you.” A wistful smile ghosted in the corners of his lips. “A man doesn't call his daughter _Stardust_ if he isn't proud of her no matter who and what she is. I think your father would especially have been proud of you for seeing something through - no matter the cost.”

Jyn wasn't sure she could speak with so much confidence about what Galen Erso would have been especially proud of. She’d never known the man, after all, but Cassian's words touched her. What was abundantly clear was that _Cassian_ was proud of her.

Which made her feel warm all over, but also small, and also afraid of maintaining that respect and pride. However complicated her relationship was with her father, and however vague her relationship with Cassian Andor was, there was something she _did_ know.

The validation of a man like Cassian was something to want, to aspire to, and to work for.

Her smile lit up her face, and Jyn stood on tiptoe so she could press her forehead to his. They didn't speak, but then. They didn't really have to. Cassian understood what it meant to have love and anger and loathing and longing all tangled up into one.

It was nice not to have to try to untangle the chaos of her own mind, when the person she was with could see the logic and pattern in it.


	3. Serenity

More than just the edges of his vision had gone dark by the time his body hit the cargo bay of the ship Bodhi had stolen for them. Pain throbbed in every bit of his body, and his weak protest that Jyn leave him to die on the beach had barely made it past his lips.

Enough past his lips to merit one of her stern looks and slightly curled lips, one that he had dimly thought would be amusing to watch in the right circumstances.

Cassian didn't think there would _be_ a right circumstance.

He knew well enough when his body had been pushed too hard, too far. Climbing that tower with broken ribs, probably a fractured spine, when he was out of breath and heartsick over the fate of K-2SO had been _too far._ Letting Jyn drag him to the beach had been too hard, and Cassian Jeron Andor was utterly spent, sprawled on his back. It didn't even hurt anymore, not in a way that he could pick out. All the pain had married and merged and dulled, like his sight.

In the distance, he could hear Jyn shrieking for Bodhi to get them out of there. Less distantly he felt her knees against his hip, her cool fingers brushing along his stubbled cheek. Her voice -

_“I swear if you die on me now, Cassian...”_

\- maybe not sweet, but certainly comforting. He thought, if he had to die, this wasn’t the worst way his mind had ever conjured. Captain Cassian Andor had been shot, he'd been beaten, and he’d had so many nightmares of dying in hostile territory. Nightmares of the butt of a blaster being the last thing he saw, or of working that little cyanide pill out of his collar while he was chained up in a torture chamber.

This, with Jyn carefully pillowing his head in her lap, and her quiet words trying desperately to imbue him with strength...this was a better way to go.

He let out a heavy sigh, and willed his eyes to bring her face into focus.

If he had to die, he could do so knowing that he’d saved the rebellion, that he'd _saved_ lives, rather than taken them. He could die with his heart light, his faith restored, and the face of a beautiful girl swimming in and out of focus.

It was more than a spy, saboteur, and murderer could ask for. So he closed his eyes, and let the pain and the darkness take him, an expression of serenity rather than agony smoothing out the lines of his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's not dead, I swear.


	4. One Bed

Across the hangar, Cassian could see Jyn Erso tucked into a corner. It made him vaguely uncomfortable that he could identify her at such a distance, and covered nearly head-to-toe in warm gear; but on the other hand it didn't surprise him at all. Even if they hadn't admitted as much out loud, he and the sergeant were hyper-aware of one another. Despite the late hour, he could tell that Jyn was wrapped around a mug of caf, her gaze absent and her mind clearly lightyears away. Around her, the skeletal night crew worked - it wasn't unusual for those who couldn't sleep to find somewhere like this to sit on nights when rest eluded them.

Without hesitation, Cassian made his way over to her, hunching somewhat in his own gear. Hoth was an unbearably cold planet on a _warm_ day, and the nights threatened to freeze in his bones. Ordinarily by now he was tucked into bed fully dressed, using all the layers he could access to keep that cold at bay, but a late return from his mission had delayed the warmth of his bed. Suddenly Cassian was glad for it. The closer he got to Jyn, the more clearly he could see the distress on her face. She didn't acknowledge him when he took a seat next to her on some sort of crate, but her head tilted until it was leaning on his shoulder, and his hand found hers.

"Can't sleep?" It was a question with an obvious answer, but it pulled her eyes back into focus as she nodded.

Cassian rubbed his fingers against the back of her hand, a sensation that was soothing even through their combined layers of gloves. "Is it nightmares, or something else?"

There were several reasons to forgo sleep on the Rebel base, but most of them had to do with the things they'd seen or done. Perhaps those with a little more distance could sleep better, but the foot soldiers and spies and saboteurs and assassins couldn't see past their sins waking - let alone in the vulnerability of sleep. He was unsurprised when her body melted further into his.

"Dreams," she finally replied. Her voice was hoarse, and Cassian wondered if she'd woken up screaming. They didn't speak for a long time; there weren't words he could offer to take the sting or the bitterness from her nightmares, and so he didn't. Instead they shared body heat and the wordless silence of understanding. After what seemed like an eternity, Jyn broke the silence again. "Cassian?"

"Mm?" He turned his head, pressing his cheek against the top of her head, stubble catching on the cotton of her scarf.

"I've never been the one responsible before, you know?" Jyn's voice was small, and she sounded nearly as fragile as when he'd dragged her out of Saw's quarters on Jedha, or when he'd pulled her away from her father's body on Eadu. Cassian squeezed her hand tightly as she went on. "I've done things I'm not proud of, and I've lost brothers and sisters in arms before, but I...I never asked anybody to die for me before."

Her voice trailed off, and Cassian let it. He couldn't say he'd directly asked anyone to follow him into combat - he was a spy, more than he was a soldier. His information, the things he'd discovered, had certainly led to death though - and there had been a time, as a younger man, that he _had_ been responsible for the lives of those with him. Lives that had been lost.

"I keep thinking about Scarif," Jyn said suddenly. "All those men and women, and they went because _I_ was so sure it was the only way. Chirrut and Baze....Kaytoo....I can't stop dreaming about them."

It _wasn't_ Jyn's fault. They'd all been volunteers, and they'd all been around the Rebellion long enough to know what a suicide mission looked like. Cassian _also_ knew survivor's guilt when he saw it, and he knew that no matter what he said, he'd never convince Jyn to scrub those names and guilt from her conscience.

"When I was fourteen, I was part of a raid," the subject change was abrupt enough that Jyn sat upright, angled her body to face him. "It was an unorganized thing, really. Before the Alliance found us, before we stopped using the tactics we'd been using on the separatists for the better part of a decade or more. I had been fighting the longest, so I guess I was the de facto leader. At any rate, it was my idea. We were low on supplies, and I'd been spying enough to know that the Imperial's rations were almost obscene."

This time she squeezed _his_ hand.

"So I suggested we go, and we did." His voice, and eyes, were dark with the memory. "They butchered us, Jyn. Out of a group of fifteen, maybe six or seven of us came home, and not with rations. I used to list the names of the dead before I fell asleep. I promised myself I'd never forget them."

"How did you recover from it?"

By adding too many names to the damn list to have any hope of finishing the recital before dawn, but he didn't want to say that. Cassian's hands held the blood of too many (so many without names) that he couldn't say any particular faces haunted his sleep night after night. He hadn't beat the nightmares, he'd simply added too many to be able to feel remorse over any particular one. So he gave her a different answer, instead.

"Time," it almost wasn't even a lie. "Experience. You'll make other mistakes, and have other victories, and in time you'll see that they lost their lives to something greater, something they believed in. Jyn, nobody who went to Scarif went in ignorance. They knew the risks, and they all had their reasons for doing it."

She didn't answer, but she _did_ settle against him once more, and he welcomed her warmth. "Look, I've got a bottle of something stronger than caf in my room - and you don't have to worry about being in the way or bothering anyone."

Cassian didn't mention that the bottle was particularly strong - designed to drop a man in two drinks or less, let alone a tiny thing like her. He didn't mention that, unlike her shared quarters, his only had one bed. If she fell asleep there - and Cassian hoped that she did - he could always find someplace else to bunk down for the night. He felt her slight nod against his shoulder, and pulled her upright.

"Cassian?" Her voice was _so small_ he almost missed it, but the man looked down into those doe eyes of hers and felt lost in her orbit once more. "Can...can I stay with you tonight? I don't want to be alone."

Suddenly it didn't matter if he had one bed, or a scrap blanket on the floor, Cassian couldn't say no to the need in her eyes.

He'd never been able to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point these are going to start being more sweet than angsty, I think. Probably. -squints-


	5. Warmth

Nothing about the mission was ideal, but Jyn Erso had definitely been through worse. After all, none of them were wounded and with the coming dawn they would be able to slip off to their ship (she hoped) and be free of the bone-aching chill of this world.

It wasn't like Hoth, but there was still a damp coolness to the planet that made everything slightly wet, and mildewed, and unpleasant.The climate wasn't the only thing that made Nev V the least pleasant little world in a small, unhappy, little system. The people who lived here (once human but long since evolved into something more) were just as bad. They didn't like outsiders, didn't trust the rebellion, and after learning that a hostage was required before negotations could even commence, Jyn had _perhaps_ ruined any chance of actual diplomatic relations.

Although she bore the rank of sergeant now, and acted as a pathfinder liaison, she was more rogue than rebel; of which both Intelligence and the council were _well_ aware. Her flat refusal to let either of her companions (Cassian, the negotiator or Bodhi the pilot) be taken away, and her quick punch to the soldier who'd tried to grab _her_ had precipitated flight into the deepening twilight of a hostile world. Jyn wouldn't pretend that she had regrets.

Especially not when the gentle snores to her right drew her attention to Bodhi. The cold was _different_ from that of Jedha (closer to Eadu), but either way the pilot was used to it. He'd wrapped up in his blanket, and promptly fallen asleep. Jyn had wedged his pack under his head as some sort of pillow, but he'd barely stirred as she'd done so.

Unlike Bodhi, Jyn was not immune to the cold. She'd wrapped her scarf around her face and head, and fished her hot packs out of her bag. They'd been a costly trade on another expedition - one with Kes Dameron some weeks ago - but at the time she'd thought they would be useful and certainly they were proving to be so now. She broke open the package, and shook the little pouch; already she could feel the warmth seeping from the soft synthetic material.

"What's that?" Cassian's voice was soft as he settled into the open space at her left; she'd been the one to find the ruins some distance out of town. Although they were both used to living a little more rough than many in the Alliance, Cassian's skills were more suited to a city, whereas Jyn couldn't count the number of nights she'd spent sleeping under stars. The shelter she'd located had been a relief to both men, although Cassian had spent the past hour scouting along the perimeter and ensuring that they wouldn't be caught unawares.

Jyn smiled, and handed him both the hot pack and a protein bar. "They're little packs that heat up, and warm your hands."

He took the food with far less interest than the hot packs. A protein bar could fuel a fully-grown man for nearly forty-eight hours, but they weren't exactly flavorful and they were about as palatable as tree bark. "They warm your hands, huh?" Cassian cupped his palms around the slight warmth, relief easing into his features. "That's a clever little device."

Although he handed the pack to her, Jyn could see the tension returning to his features. Of the three of them, Cassian handled the cold (and especially the damp) the worst. Fest, she was given to understand, was a warmer and drier climate. Although Lah'mu hadn't been quite as cold as Jedha or Nav V, it had been far more damp. Jyn loved the feeling of cool moisture in her hair, and the sensation of droplets of water forming at the end of her nose was a pleasant childhood memory.

Cassian, on the other hand, just looked miserable.

"Keep it," Jyn said, and offered the second warmer as well. "Keep them both, I have more in my packs."

It was a lie, but Cassian didn't seem to catch it. She wasn't _quite_ as adept with the skill as he was, but the man was evidently too cold, and hungry, and tired, and miserable to look for the untruth. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely. Go on, tuck them into your gloves. Will help dry them too, I imagine." Jyn helped Cassian pull his gloves back and showed him how to situate the hot packs so that a layer of fabric protected his skin from the heat.

Together, they sat back against the wall. It was too risky for a fire, but they had their sleeping gear, and they were all in one piece for once. Jyn tucked herself against Cassian's side, knowing that by morning Bodhi would work his way over to nest against her hip. As a crew, physical boundaries had melted away some time ago. It barely felt like anything when Cassian's arm snaked around her shoulders.

It also felt like everything.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, despite the moisture accumulating on the slick surface of his blue parka. "I'll take first watch. You should get some sleep."

Cassian was soundly asleep before she even finished the words. So Jyn tucked herself even closer against him, eyes scanning the dim horizon before them.

Nothing about the mission was ideal, but Jyn wouldn't trade it for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY GIVE UNTO YOU FLUFF THAT IS NOT ALSO ANGST.


	6. Temptation

_"We have to give him a chance."_

As far as Cassian - as far as the _rebellion_ \- was concerned, Ilvin Thrace had used up all of the chances _left_ to him. As usual, Jyn had a different opinion. Also as usual, it had won out. So here they were, ignoring their orders, and going off script. Rather than landing, finding Thrace, and killing him they were - fuck if Cassian _actually_ knew what they were _doing_. Jyn had asked him to stay behind, and he'd argued and Bodhi had sided with her, and so here Cassian was.

All he could think about was that exchange en route to Eadu; when Jyn had earnestly looked at him like he was going to save Galen. When she had looked at him like he was some sort of rescuer, and not the black shroud of the rebellion, like he wasn't the hands the Alliance soiled so that theirs could stay clean. She'd learned better, of course. The woman was too sharp not to see through the flimsy veneer he'd tried to paint over his orders to conceal them from her, and the pilot, and the refugees they'd rescued from Jedha.

"She should have taken you," Kaytoo observed from the cockpit of their ship, head swiveled to fix Cassian with that familiar stare. It was unnerving, to see his old friend in a different body. To anyone else, the former Imperial Droid looked the same, but Cassian could see smooth surfaces where scars from close calls used to sit. The paint hadn't chipped in the right places, the joints were still too stiff from resisting protocol. Still, it was a relief that Kaytoo had managed to copy himself into the droid he'd cannibalized during their time on Scarif.

Cassian hunched his shoulders. "No, Jyn was right to leave me behind."

K-2SO kept his eyes trained on the captain, who shrugged and chose not to comment further. Instead, Cassian climbed into the seat next to his best friend, and watched Jyn speaking with Thrace. He hated being kept inside, but he disagreed with what she was doing and if he wasn't on board he'd only precipitate a fight. Not as overtly as Jyn would, of course, but Thrace would pick up the hostility. Cassian should know - Ilvin Thrace was practically the Imperial version of himself, as Jyn had smoothly pointed out.

Maybe that was what made the temptation to simply blast out Thrace's brains so strong. After all, those were his _orders_ and they kept it simple. He could have Jyn safely back at base before she had time to realize what had happened.

Okay, probably not.

"Do you think what Jyn is doing will work?" He didn't know why he was asking Kaytoo, except that the droid knew more about him than anyone else.

There was a long moment of silence, before Kaytoo answered. "Do you mean winning over Thrace, or showing you another way?"

Cassian didn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is quieter, and shorter, but I think I like it anyway?


	7. Luck

The rhythmic _clack_ of the credit chips against the table was beginning to strain Bodhi Rook's nerves. He'd never been much of a gambler - not even _before_ Bor Gullet - but the damage to his mind, and the time it had taken to recover, had stolen whatever pleasure he may have derived from the activity. He tried not to fidget in his chair, pushed close against Jyn's.

For her part, the woman looked cool and calm as ice. To the rest of the world, her poker face must have been impressive, but after six months as her pilot Bodhi could say otherwise. The lines around her mouth were tense, and her eyes hard. Jyn's eyes were only like _that_ when her back was against a wall. Bodhi Rook flexed his hands under the table, grateful he'd already tapped out of this game, his cards tossed to the center of the table with more relief than frustration.

Jyn slid her last remaining credit chip across the table.

"What are you doing?" Bodhi asked quietly, leaning close to press his mouth against her ear. Six months in the small shuttle they'd evacuated Hoth in had also eliminated any personal space the pair of them may once have had.

Bodhi had not prepared for this, when he'd awakened that morning.

Not for their ship to need emergency repairs after narrowly escaping a mission to snag Cassian off a world after his own mission had gone south, and certainly not for Jyn Erso to ignore the captain's instructions to wait with the ship in favor of gambling all of their remaining credits to get the money needed for their repairs. He also had not prepared for her elbow against his side, and a stern look that said she knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

Which was what he was afraid of.

He sat back in his seat once more, only to begin swear vividly as she put her hand down. It was a winning hand, an impossibly winning hand; and from the slight smirk Bodhi could detect on her face she knew it was _impossible_. Her hand, dropping under the table, came to rest on the blaster she kept strapped to her thigh.

_Oh, no._

"Are you cheating, girl?" The man across the table, human, growled around the cigar he'd been clenching between his teeth all game. He dropped his cards face down, attempted to lean against the table to intimidate Jyn. It didn't work on her; didn't really work on Bodhi, either. He wasn't a scrapper, but his time with the Alliance (and the Empire) had exposed him to worse than a cantina brawl. Still, they were supposed to be keeping a low profile. He slunk away from the table, grateful (for once) that people tended to overlook him. Next to Jyn, he was practically invisible.

As Bodhi stumbled towards the door, he heard Jyn's voice reply, "do you really want to accuse me of that?"

No one could start a fight as easily as Jyn Erso.

Unsure what to do, Bodhi stole out into the bright light of day, squinting against the overhead star to determine a time. He couldn't. Was Cassian back at the ship yet? They'd left K-2SO behind to wait for him, primarily because Bodhi couldn't handle both Kaytoo _and_ Jyn. If the intelligence officer was already back, maybe he'd come looking for them? The shouts coming from inside the cantina he'd just vacated told Bodhi that Jyn had already...escalated.

He let out the breath he'd been holding; he could go back and try to help Jyn (knowing that he was something of a mess in a fist fight), or he could find Cassian who would be _furious,_ but probably more helpful. Bodhi decided on the latter, and a quick pace set him off in the direction of the ship - since he had no idea where the other man had disappeared off to. Cassian rarely took any of them to meet a contact; the fewer people involved in those exchanges, the better. Frankly, Bodhi was less cut out for spy work than he was for a fist fight, and was glad to be left behind.

Jyn and Kaytoo, not so much.

Bodhi had gone only a block when he spotted that familiar form, and the slight limp that Cassian did his best to disguise but which flared up when he was moving too fast, or his mind was too caught up in other matters. The pilot tried not to be obvious as he rapidly made his way to Cassian's side. It took only a few muttered words (Jyn, cantina, gambling), for the captain to grab his arm and begin steering him back in the direction he'd just come from.

A quick glance at Cassian confirmed the expression; the one he'd worn when they left Eadu, when he'd fought with Jyn. The one he'd worn when he'd come out of a briefing and had decided he would be the one to tell Jyn the Death Star plans were lost. It was, frankly, Cassian at his worst. Bodhi didn't like it; he felt himself shrink, the way he always did when anxiety overtook his rational mind, twisting and twining around it like the many limbs of Bor Gullet. It peeled away his quiet strength, his steady nature, the subtle bravery, and left only his fears and his cowardice. Bodhi hated it; hated himself. "Cassian..."

"Here's the plan," the other man said by way of response. "You grab Jyn, and drag her out. Let me take care of the rest."

It wasn't much of a plan, Bodhi thought, but he didn't say it. Cassian didn't look like he was in the mood for constructive feedback. Not that he ever was, where Jyn was concerned. Not that Cassian _or_ Jyn seemed to think there was any constructive feedback to give on the nature of themselves. After six months cooped up in a tiny ship, Bodhi Rook begged to differ.

No really, he kept hoping they'd just work out that tension together. Kaytoo's statistics had been encouraging that they would - eventually.

Bodhi shook off the wandering thoughts (they always plagued him when he thought of Jedha, or Bor Gullet, or his own mental condition,) and followed Cassian into the cantina. It was chaos, and of course, Jyn Erso was at the heart of it. Her batons were extended, her teeth were bared, and Bodhi was struck again by how much she looked in her element whenever she fought. Sometimes he wished he had a fraction of her courage. Just a fraction though, more would probably get him killed. For a moment, Bodhi thought this would be easy, until the man Jyn had cheated pulled his blaster and pointed it directly at Jyn.

"I want my credits back, girl." His voice was loud, boisterous, and drew every eye towards him. Even Bodhi's, who'd been glued to Jyn - noting that busted lip, the self-satisfied grin, and her rigid stance.

The last thing Bodhi wanted to do was _move,_ let alone into the direction of blaster fire, but he remembered Cassian's firm instructions, and tried to summon something like Jyn's reckless bravery. He shuffled one step forward, and then another, until he could wrap his fingers around the woman's elbow. How was he supposed to get her out when there was a blaster aimed at her chest? For an agonizing moment everything was stillness, it was silent, a held breath waiting for that other boot to drop.

When it did, it wasn't the blaster fire Bodhi was expecting. It was, instead, the cool sound of Cassian's voice. "You really don't wanna do that, friend."

While Bodhi had drawn attention snaking over to Jyn, the captain had gotten behind the man aiming a blaster at Jyn. The pilot couldn't see the blaster in Cassian's hand, but he knew it had to be there, when the one pointed at Jyn lowered. Bodhi tugged at her arm first gently, and then with insistence. He was taller than she was, but Jyn Erso was very much an immovable object when she wanted to be. He tugged again, and this time she followed long enough to put the door to her back and draw her own blaster - which she aimed at the patron, covering Cassian's own retreat.

"Lucky for me he always seems to know when I'm in trouble," she said cheerfully to no one in particular as Cassian moved towards them with an expression like a dark cloud - ready to shed rain and lightening and thunder.

"It wasn't _luck,_ " Bodhi muttered as Cassian shoved them both out the door and pushed them into a sprint back towards their ship. "It was _me._ "

He didn't think it was the same thing, at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for a mass posting of all the RebelCaptain week prompts in the next couple of days! lol I'm a little late, but I don't think anyone's gonna mind. :D


	8. Yours

**AGONY**

“The shields are still up!”   
“Have we had any word from General Solo?”   
“Of  _ course _ we haven’t, they’re operating on radio silence.”   
  


The chatter of the command center had faded to the background some time ago, Cassian’s thoughts scattered and turned towards the forested moon. He leaned against a spare bit of wall, out of the way, as invisible as he ever was in these settings. Intelligence worked best when they could be overlooked - but Draven had put him here because if anything went wrong, they’d be the ones scraping up some sort of victory out of the ashes. Or, that’s what the general had told him anyway. Cassian’s arms folded over his chest, his frown deepening as the conversations continued to filter through his awareness.

Usually the thought of defeat didn’t weigh on him as it did on others. There was defeat, and then there was total failure, and he could make  _ use _ of the former. Of course, usually he didn’t have such a vested interest in the ground forces.

There was a  _ reason _ that he didn’t keep tabs on the Pathfinders. It was better for his sanity.

Jyn was in the ground force, desperately trying to bring down the shield. She’d volunteered - more than that, she’d attempted to move heavens and planets to get put on the assignment. Cassian had understood, even if the thought had turned his stomach. Until the Empire was put down, she’d never be free of her father’s legacy. With the exception of perhaps Princess Leia, no one had been more sickened by the reality of a second Death Star than Jyn Erso. She’d  _ had _ to go, and so he’d let her. (As if he could stop her. As if he would.) It was agonizing, though, knowing where she was, knowing the odds of her return.

So Cassian stood back, and listened with partial attention. He had to believe that Jyn would come back to him.

  
**FINGERS**

  
“I volunteered to go,” she said quietly, securing the camouflaged poncho under her belt. Jyn was distracted, but not so much that she missed him leaning in the doorway of the room that had been assigned to her. Cassian was good at avoiding detection, of course, but they both knew she had a particular knack for noticing him. Still she chose not to face him, and focused on getting her suddenly-trembling fingers to cooperate as she belted her thigh holster over her pants.   
  
“I know you did.” Cassian’s voice was low, but Jyn could hear the strain in it. “I told them you would be an excellent addition to the team.”   
  
This  _ did _ cause Jyn to turn, straightening as she did so. He must have realized he’d surprised her, because the corners of his lips twitched momentarily out of their heavy frown. He didn’t say anything though, merely handed her the blaster she’d swiped from him after she’d managed to leave hers on Hoth during the evacuation. That’s what she’d told him, anyway. Jyn had never told him that she liked taking his things because it gave him a reason to come find her, but she suspected he knew and that it was why he let her get away with it. She slid the blaster into the holster, licked her lips, and then spoke.

  
“Why?”   
  
For a moment, she wasn’t sure he’d answer. They didn’t talk much about things. Not  _ real _ things, like the way they felt when they brushed shoulders in an empty corridor, or about what they might do when this was all over. Although Jyn knew how she felt about Cassian - and suspected he felt the same way - there had never been room for the actual words. This might be one of those times, when she trembled in anticipation - waiting for an answer - but never got satisfaction.   
  
Cassian considered here for a long time, before he stepped into her personal space, gathered her shoulders into his hands, and pressed his forehead against hers.   
  
“I know what this means to you,” his voice was impossibly soft, but Jyn heard every word. “You  _ need _ to go.”   
  
Jyn’s fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket, the heavy leather smooth and worn under her touch. It wasn’t a goodbye like most of the lovers around the rebellion, but it suited them. She squeezed the material lightly, and then pulled away - knowing that although her thanks went unspoken, Cassian knew.

  
**SHIVER**

  
It had taken calling in more favors than was probably wise, to get himself to Endor for the celebration. The second Death Star was ash, the Emperor and his lieutenant were dead, and Han Solo’s team was successful. He hadn’t known when he was finding his way to Endor whether the woman he sought was even still alive, but...he had to hope.    
  
The moon was beautiful, and another time he might have appreciated that more. In the moment, the heavy greenery made it difficult to pick out the Pathfinders in their camouflage and between that and the heavy presence of soldiers and pilots and droids, picking out Jyn’s slender form was next to impossible. His frown deepened, turning him into the imposing figure that so many of the rebellion knew him to be. Cassian tugged off his gloves absently, gaze still scanning the area that had been cleared for their ships to touch down.   
  
“Captain Andor?” The voice came from his left, and Cassian turned to look at the sergeant who’d addressed him. “If you’re looking for Sergeant Erso, she’s in the main camp. She’s gettin’ patched up, but she’s fine.”   
  
He didn’t want to think about why some man he’d never met knew he was looking for Jyn, so he pushed the thought out of his mind to let worry take over. Had she been shot? Cassian’s stride was purposeful, and between that and his rank, and the stern expression he wore, no one stopped him as he made his way into the Ewok village and the area that had been set aside for medical purposes.   
  
His eyes immediately picked her out here, sitting on the floor of the enclosure, head leaned back against a wall, right hand toying with the kyber crystal he never saw her without. Her left arm was in a sling, tight against her chest. Relief hit Cassian as hard as a physical blow, and he tried to keep a more even pace as he made his way over to her, and slid to the floor beside her.   
  
“Jyn?”   
  
The woman’s eyes struggled to open, but she blinked at him lazily with a small smile. “Hey.”   
  
It was all she got out before Cassian leaned in to kiss her, hand sliding along her jaw. A shiver touched his spine as she leaned into him, hand wrapping along his ribs to tug him closer. He’d waited too long for this, to be honest, and yet it felt like this was the perfect moment.


	9. Competition

Jyn Erso made  _ being livid _ into an art form.   
  
He could feel the rage sizzling off her from half the mess hall away; she fixed him with icy stares when they were being briefed on an upcoming mission; when he tried to speak with her she delivered four or five cutting words before brushing him off entirely. Cassian could appreciate the drama of it all, even as he felt his own ire prickling over the situation. She was angry, and he was a convenient target for that anger. More than just that, if he was being honest with himself. So Cassian swallowed his frustration and let Jyn be angry.

For a few days, anyway. Until a casual tip from Baze pointed Cassian towards the cantina, where Jyn was drinking - and probably looking for a fight. 

It was one thing to let her be angry with him, a justifiable anger considering how much he’d blocked her lately from making reckless decisions while they were all still recovering from their Scarif ordeal. It was an entirely different thing to let her take that anger out on some unsuspecting drunk.

She was sitting at a table alone when he arrived, looking lost and more than a little ready for a fight. Cassian didn’t have any doubts she could both start and finish one, but he suspected that it wouldn’t erase some of the melancholy that tucked itself into the corners of her eyes. So he approached her silently, and set a bottle and two shot glasses onto the scarred table top. Jyn didn’t look up, but it almost felt like the temperature was dropping by several degrees. 

“I thought it was finally the right time to open this,” Cassian said by way of a greeting, shrugging out of his jacket and setting it on the back of his chair. He took his seat, and tried to finally catch her eye. “Want to share it with me?”   
  
When Jyn finally looked at him, it was with a heavy dose of resentment. Her fingers wrapped around the glass of whatever it was she was drinking. “I’m not in the mood for a competition.”   
  
“It doesn’t have to be.” They were lying, the both of them, but Cassian was nothing if not comfortable in his lies. She was less so, and he was content to wait her out, slowly rolling up his sleeves as she downed her present drink.

The tension between them was palpable, but after another moment Jyn reached for the heavy decanter and pried the top off with a practiced movement. She sniffed the air over the opening, and raised an eyebrow, turning her eyes back to Cassian’s once more. “What is this?”

“It’s an alcohol native to Fest,” Cassian answered her, pushing both of the glasses in her direction. “Usually you drink it chilled, but I think we can make an exception tonight, don’t you?”

Jyn shrugged, and poured a glass for each of them. “I can drink just about anything.”

Cassian smiled to himself as he drew his glass back across the table.  _ Mezcal _ was known for being a potent drink, even among his native population. Off-worlders were rarely prepared for the way the drink crept up on them. He hadn’t had any in quite some time - this was a gift from an old... _ friend _ wasn’t the right word...but certainly someone who’d known him longer than he was generally comfortable with. He picked the glass off the table, drained the shot a little slower than usual, and set the glass back down. Cassian did not allow himself much in the way of nostalgia, but the  _ mezcal _ tasted like home, and relaxed the tightness of his shoulders ever-so slightly.   
  
Jyn did not have the palate or nostalgia to savor the beverage. To her credit she didn’t choke over the strange flavor or the strength of the alcohol, but she did blink a few times and wheeze out a soft bit of profanity that put the first real hint of a smile on Cassian’s lips.   
  
“You took that better than most,” he commented idly.   
  
Jyn poured a second round as she growled a half-hearted, “shut up.”

This time she was a little more prepared for the shot, and Cassian could also see her relaxing somewhat. Oh, she was  _ still _ angry, but she looked too tired to start a fight. He could relate - the silent war that had been waging between them was unpleasant and exhausting in ways he wasn’t exactly used to. Cassian generally didn’t  _ care _ if someone was mad at him for doing his job. Jyn was the exception - she looked at him, and saw straight into his vulnerabilities. He hated that about her, as much as he loved it.   
  
The third shot was down, and Jyn was starting to list back in her seat.    
  
“So,” Cassian began, taking control of the decanter and pouring the next round. “Do you want to talk about why you’re so mad at me?”   
  
Talking wasn’t something  _ either _ of them were particularly good at, but now and again Jyn needed to have her own feelings drawn from her like an infection from a wound. She was a woman of deeply felt passion, and bottling things up as she did  _ had _ to be more difficult for her than it was for him. “No,” she said bluntly. “I don’t.”   
  
Cassian kept the decanter and both glasses, once again content to wait her out. Between them, he had the greater supply of patience.   
  
“I thought you were with me, all the way.” Jyn finally said, once more in a lower, heated, tone. She leaned against the table, hands splayed out against the flat surface. “You  _ lied  _ to me about the plans, and you made damn sure nobody else would tell me either. Cassian, you made sure I wasn’t even  _ here _ when..”   
  
Her minimal injuries had made it too easy to ensure that she didn’t know the plans had been lost, to ensure that when the Death Star itself was destroyed she was somewhere else. It hadn’t  _ entirely _ been about her safety and sanity, but Cassian would be lying if he said otherwise. “Jyn...I  _ am _ with you, even still. But there was nothing you could have done, nothing that would have  _ helped _ . I thought it would be better if you didn’t know.”   
  
Maybe it would have been, and maybe not; in retrospect, Cassian realized it hadn’t been his decision to make.   
  
“I’m sorry, Jyn.” He slid the drink back over to her. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.”   
  
“No,” she agreed. Her fingers wrapped around the glass, but then withdrew. “I think you were right, though. I’d have gone mad if I had known.”   
  
The silence that descended once more was still unhappy. It lacked the comfort and warmth of their usual non-verbal communication, and Cassian was surprised by how much he missed it. He drained his shot, and then looked at hers with a raised brow and a question.   
  
“Cassian, I thought this wasn’t a competition.” Her voice was warmer now than it had been all evening, and if that was his only victory, Cassian would be pleased.   
  
“I lied.”   
  
She laughed, and finished her drink. From the way she slumped against the chair, or the table, Cassian knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he had her, metaphorically speaking, under the table. Jyn would hate to lose. It would give her another reason, a  _ better _ reason, to be angry with him. With the promise of a genuine grin in his eyes and on his lips, Cassian reached for her glass.   
  
“Another?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...think this is my new favorite. lol Cassian is such a bastard and I love it.


	10. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RebelCaptain Appreciation Week: Prompt #1 Family
> 
> This...did not go where I was expecting. At all. Damnit, Cassian.

The wall was cold against her back, but Jyn Erso didn’t seem to mind it so very much. She was, instead, focused on the translucent crystal she held flat against the palm of her hand. Cassian wasn’t sure what she was doing here - sitting on his bed, staring at her necklace like it was the most precious thing she’d ever seen. It wasn’t  _ new _ \- he’d seen it around her neck many times before now.   
  
He closed the door behind him as he stepped into his small room - small, but solely his, as a luxury of rank. Well,  _ officially _ it was solely his. Cassian didn’t ask Jyn how she routinely got into his locked room, and she never offered the information up herself.

“Were you looking for me?” The man spoke lightly, as he dropped his coat onto the foot of the bed. It was too cold to go without it for long, but he’d just come in from the bitter cold of outside and for the next few minutes his body felt too hot inside the walls of the base. “I’ve been away-”   
  
“For a few days,” Jyn finished, finally looking up with a near-invisible smile quirked in the curve of her lips. “I know, I wasn’t actually expecting you. I just like to come here sometimes when you’re gone. It’s quiet.”   
  
As if that settled the matter, she quickly tucked her crystal under her shirt, and scooted to the edge of the bed, uncrossing her legs so that she could plant her feet on the floor. Before she could stand, Cassian took a seat beside her. For a moment they sat in silence, and he thought she might leave anyway, but then Jyn relaxed against his side. “It’s been extra cold while you were off-world,” she offered idly. “Did you go someplace warm?”   
  
“It’s been cold because you haven’t had anywhere to put your feet.” Cassian looked at her with a sternness they both knew he didn’t mean. Jyn shared his bed, and to be honest, he welcomed the warmth as much as she did. Even if her feet  _ did _ end up wedged between his knees by morning. “You know I can’t tell you where I was, Jyn.”   
  
“I didn’t ask where you  _ were _ , I asked if it was  _ warm _ .” Her finger was digging into his ribs as she poked, but by now he’d come to accept that the slight needling she used from time to time was a sign of affection she didn’t know how to convey.   
  
“Everywhere is warm compared to Hoth.” Which was true, but not the answer she’d wanted. Jyn poked him once more, harder, and then stood up - stretching her arms as she went. Cassian wanted to tug her back down, wanted to keep her warmth against his side just a little bit longer. He wasn’t sure how, or that it would be entirely welcome, so he didn’t.   
  
Jyn turned slowly, eyebrow raised. “Are you coming to dinner?”   
  
Cassian shook his head, wearied still from his fast trip he just wanted to lay down and close his eyes for a little while. Jyn pursed her lips, looking at him with what he thought might be disappointment, before she turned back towards the door. Her hand was moving to the control panel when he finally spoke.   
  
“I was on Fest.”    
  
Jyn froze, and he thought it looked like she might have flinched. She looked over her shoulder, and he saw in her eyes his own discomfort at having had to return  _ home _ . Cassian shrugged, but she ignored the gesture and returned to the bed, resuming her seat. “They sent you to Fest,” she said finally, voice dull. “They sent you to Fest  _ alone _ ?”   
  
He shrugged again. “There was work to be done, and I was the right tool for the job.”   
  
The words were brusque, the shrug deflective, but Cassian wasn’t fooling Jyn and he knew it. Of anyone, it would be Jyn who might understand why that was so difficult. He’d never seen Lah’mu, but he could easily picture a much younger, smaller, Jyn Erso standing in the tall grass, moisture spattering her face - watching her family disappear at the hands of the Empire. She could probably picture a dirty little boy on Fest, throwing rocks at Clone Troopers as they passed him by. It was this - the distant association of home as heartbreak - that united them so strongly. Well,  _ one _ of the things, anyway.   
  
“Cassian,” Jyn reached for his hand now, and he let her take it; let her cool fingers run over the back of his warm ones. “I’m sorry.”   
  
He thought of their families, of Jyn’s mother on Lah’mu and her father on Eadu, and his own parents and brothers and cousins on Fest. They were all gone now - out of reach. It ached sometimes, in a dim fashion, in a more distant way than the traumas of his work and his cause. Probably that loss always  _ would _ , but it grew less and less with time. Having this crew - this  _ family _ \- he’d built with Jyn Erso helped. Cassian leaned over, kissed the side of Jyn’s head.   
  
“Come on. You wanted dinner, and I probably should have something too.” He stood first, tugging her up after him. Before they left his room, Jyn’s arm snaked around his ribs and squeezed lightly.


	11. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RebelCaptain Appreciation Week Prompt #2: Comfort

One day, almost without warning, Jyn Erso seemingly shut down. Walls no one had seen since before the destruction of Jedha rose without warning, separating her from the rest of the crew - and the rest of the alliance, as well. Cassian privately confided to Chirrut that she looked like some of the soldiers he’d seen come off a battlefield; bleeding to death, but not from any wound a medical droid could heal. It was an expression of how worried the spy was, that he could even bring himself to share his concerns with the guardian.

Although there was still work to be done, in the wake of the Emperor’s death the Rebellion was shifting and re-aligning; those who felt it was time to muster out did so. Chirrut and Baze had decided to return to a life of meditation with the Force; Bodhi was being re-assigned as a pilot elsewhere; and Cassian had received requests to assume command of Rebel Intelligence.

No one knew what Jyn would do. She drifted through the base, looking for all the world like she was gone already.

It was difficult to watch the vibrant woman retreat into herself the way she’d done after her father’s death, looking so weak and pained, but it seemed that no one knew what to do about it. So on the last day he would be with the others, Baze Malbus decided that it was time to  _ do something _ .   
  
He was not a man of many words - if you wanted guidance it was generally better to let the old mystic do the talking; Chirrut was  _ made _ of words and knew how to nuance and pattern them in ways that Baze never could. Of course, Jyn wasn’t much of a listener, and maybe that was why the pair of them had always managed to get along. They were both, when everything was said and done, people of action.

Jyn was in a near-empty training room when he found her, working a rubber dummy over with the weighted batons she held so easily in her hands. It was the most energy he (or anyone) had seen out of the woman in weeks. Her face was flushed, and sweat matted her hair along her face and neck. Baze waited until she noticed him, knowing better than to sneak up on someone as highly trained (and paranoid) as Jyn. When she did see him from the corner of her eye, Jyn let her hands fall to her side, trying to school her face into something more neutral than the distress he’d witnessed moments earlier.

“I thought you’d left already.” she said quietly, retrieving a towel from a bench shoved against the far wall, mopping the sweat from her face and neck. “Chirrut said you were leaving after breakfast.”   
  
“You didn’t come to say goodbye, Little Sister.” Baze raised an eyebrow, and gestured to her with one large hand. “Did you really think you could get away so easily?”   
  
If her face hadn’t already been so red, Baze thought she might have blushed. Instead, she tossed the towel back down and tried to regain her composure. “I don’t like goodbyes.”   
  
“Uh-huh.” Baze waited until she had the good sense to break eye-contact before he went on. “Walk with me, Little Sister. There’s something I want to see with you.”   
  
She wanted to refuse - he could tell. The corners of her eyes tightened, and her lips turned down; she even turned her body slightly - like she was getting ready to run. It didn’t surprise him - after all this time, she was  _ still _ something of a runner. She was running now, even if her body hadn’t quite caught up to her heart and mind. Jyn also knew  _ better _ than to refuse, and he saw the moment she realized that there was no gracious way out. 

Together they exited the compound, in silence. Baze didn’t care much for unnecessary conversation, and Jyn was too lost in her thoughts and too wary to give him an opening to use against her. She was a lot of things, the petite woman, but a fool wasn’t really one of them. So Baze took them into the heavy forestry, up a herd path that wound its way to the peak of the mountain in a series of tricky switchbacks. For a long time, the only sound was the underbrush crunching beneath their boots, and the heavy breathing from the exertion of their hike. The path was a familiar one to Baze, and before too long they broke the line of trees that ringed a bald on the mountain’s near-summit.

Jyn dropped onto a wide, flat, rock and stared at him with accusing eyes. “Why did you bring me here, Baze?”   
  
“You need to talk,” Baze said simply, taking a seat beside her. “And then you need to listen. And  _ then _ you need to go say goodbye to Chirrut so I don’t have to live out my remaining years listening to him moan that his little star didn’t hug him around the neck before he left.”   
  
It was more than Jyn was used to hearing from Baze in one breath. She stared at him with a mouth-caught-agape expression, and then closed her mouth with an audible  _ click _ of teeth. “I don’t want to talk.”   
  
“I know.” The man made himself comfortable on the rock; he didn’t have Cassian’s patience - which was just as well, because the captain was  _ still _ waiting for Jyn to give in - but he had enough for this moment.   
  
“You  _ don’t _ know, or you wouldn’t have brought me here.” Jyn’s voice had taken on an edge; she wasn’t quite yelling - that was typically reserved for Cassian, who made her angrier than most anyone else -  _ yet. _   
  
Baze raised his eyebrow again. “You misunderstand. I  _ know _ , Jyn. I know what happened.”   
  
This, the woman was not expecting. She turned so pale that the color on her cheeks from the hike looked almost like vivid red paint splashed against alabaster. The slow-bleeding look in her eyes shifted; Jyn hemorrhaged in that moment, holding the tears in her eyes by sheer force of will. “How?”   
  
“The  _ how _ doesn’t matter.” Baze replied, watching her steadily.   
  
“Does Chirrut know?” She turned, if possible, even more pale. “Does  _ Cassian _ know?”   
  
He couldn’t resist rolling his eyes, trying to brush off the agony in her voice even though it stabbed in him at least a dozen places. “No one else knows. They don’t see as much.”   
  
At that, Jyn relaxed somewhat, though she was still rather pale. She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms tight around her legs as though she could make herself small enough to hide from this conversation.When Baze didn’t say anything further, she buried her face against her knees and arms. She must have heard the sound of his clothing scrape against the rock as he moved, but she didn’t shrug off the heavy arm Baze wrapped around her shoulders, tucking her tightly against his side.   
  
“Cry it out, Little Sister,” Baze said in a gentle tone. “You need to let it go.”   
  
So she did; for a long time. They didn’t speak, either the grizzled old man with nothing but time, or the young woman who sobbed silently into her legs.It wasn’t the sort of circumstance that warranted conversation - at least not now. When she finally straightened, Baze let Jyn pull away and wipe her eyes against the sleeve of her heavy shirt.   
  
“Have you come up here often?” Jyn finally asked, trying to regain her composure. Baze was relieved to see that she looked more like her old self, and less like the fragile shell she’d been wandering around as. It was strange, how having your grief acknowledged, could make things easier to bear.   
  
He waited a moment, deciding whether or not to answer her, before he replied, “every day since we came to this base.”   
  
“Why?” The word fell from Jyn’s mouth rapidly, like she hadn’t thought the question through. She probably  _ hadn’t _ , to be honest.   
  
“To watch the star set over the horizon.” Baze shrugged. “If you turn the other way, you can see the ocean. It’s a different color almost every day. When the star sets.”   
  
She was quiet while she processed what he’d said, and then she smiled. “You come here to watch it for Chirrut, so you can tell him about it later.”   
  
“You do silly little things, for the people you love,” Baze replied easily. “Just like the captain does for you.”   
  
Jyn turned startled eyes to him. “What?”   
  
“Cassian,” Baze said, with annoyance creeping into his tone. “Or haven’t you noticed all the caf he’s been getting you, or the dozens of little things he’s been going out of his way to do?”   
  
She flushed again. “I noticed.”   
  
“You’ve scared him,” Baze said. “It’s time to fix that.”   
  
He stood from the rock, and gestured back to the trail from which they’d come earlier. It was early afternoon, and hot without the shade of the trees on the trail. The pair quickly began to make their way back down the mountain.   
  
“Baze?” Jyn called over her shoulder, the first smile he’d seen on her since that particular day a little over a month ago brightening her entire face.   
  
“Mm?” He tried not to let her see how pleased he was for the smile.   
  
“Do you really think Cassian loves me?”   
  
Baze rolled his eyes again. “You’re a fool as bad as Chirrut is.”   
  
Her laughter was a pleasant companion on their long walk home.  

  
  
  



	12. Undercover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still catching up on RebelCaptain Week prompts because I fail at doing the thing. lol This prompt is Undercover, and it went in a direction I wasn't expecting.
> 
> This is a sequel to the last prompt, Comfort. You may want to read that one first if you haven't, but it's not totally necessary.
> 
> If you want an extra helping of feelings, listen to the song I wrote this to:  
> https://youtu.be/3hn_R1i6i2c

It wasn’t what Baze Malbus had meant when he’d told her to  _ fix it _ , but Jyn often thought that what the grizzled old soldier didn’t know wouldn’t disappoint him. She’d waited for two days after the two guardians had departed, joked with Bodhi over his last dinner on the slowly dismantling base, and whispered into Cassian’s ear in their bed that night that he should take that promotion he’d been offered.  Jyn hadn’t meant to be cruel - she’d just wanted to make sure that things were  _ right _ when she left.   
  
Cassian was still sleeping when she’d quietly left their room, when she boarded a shuttle and demanded in a hoarse voice that they  _ leave _ already.

She’d made herself hard to find in the years since. It was the thing Jyn had always been particularly good at - blending, and disappearing, and knowing when it was time to cut and run. She’d resumed Tanith’s life first, and then when she’d had enough credits and contacts, shucked the life as easily as she did her coat. On the second world she’d worked in a bar, keeping a wary eye on the various drunks and dregs, and settling fights whenever they cropped up. If she was a little harsher with men who carried a military bearing, no one on the washed-up outer rim world commented. Jyn lost track of her names and lives after that, letting one bleed and blur into the memory of the next, until she couldn’t even have followed her  _ own _ trail.

When she was satisfied that Cassian couldn’t find her - if he’d bothered to look - she settled on Bothawui. The mid-rim world was crawling with former Imperials and their goods; seedier parts of the world, like the one she lived in, dealt in stolen goods. Here they knew her as Aster; a quiet (but fierce) woman who largely kept to herself, and dealt in stolen electronics. She had a reputation for being the most deft hand with both Imperial and Rebellion parts, but managed to keep herself largely out of the eye of the New Republic as it coalesced and developed. Jyn couldn’t say she was  _ happy _ , but it was a stable living that put food on the table, and for the first time since she’d could recall there hadn’t been a reason to look over her shoulder.

Every now and then, she would wake up looking for Cassian in her bed, or for Bodhi in the gaggle of brown-eyed pilots at the cantina she frequented. More often than not, she thought of Baze - letting her cry on the summit of a mountain, assuring her that she was loved; by more than Cassian Andor, at that.

She worked hard to remind herself that the decision to leave had been the  _ right _ one.

Most days, particularly the ones where the sharp ache of a grief she would never be able to put to rest pierced her chest, she knew it wouldn’t have been fair to subject Cassian to all of the ghosts she couldn’t share. Most days, she didn’t think of him or their friends at all. It was just  _ easier _ that way, in the same vein that it had been easier to believe that her father had died, that Saw hadn’t been trying to protect her, that Lyra had chosen a death with Galen over a life with her daughter.

Days, and weeks, and  _ months _ passed in relative quiet on Bothawui. She got herself a little houseplant to keep in her shop, and picked out pretty carpets to put on the floor. She’d never done those things before; when a stray cat began to sleep on her stoop, Jyn put out food until it practically lived in her shop. It was, more or less, a life. A life she was comfortable in.

Maybe that was why she wasn’t prepared for it to come screeching to a halt.

It was a quiet afternoon - she’d spent most of her day in the back room of her shop, working hard at the first project to  _ touch _ her since she’d landed on this world. The KX chassis looked strange on her worktable; only the torso and head of the unit intact. Her client wanted information from the droid; Imperial security droids were nearly impossible to infiltrate. Jyn would be lying if she said she hadn’t thrown up twice in the process of cracking the droid open. She’d never been overly fond of the K-2SO, but he  _ had _ sacrificed himself for his master. Cassian hadn’t admitted it, but she knew he’d still dreamt of the droid even after the war. Cannibalizing something so close to Kaytoo…   
  
She was taking a break, trying to scrub the mechanical oil from her hands, when she heard someone in the front of her shop. Old habits -  _ life saving _ habits - well, they died hard. Jyn’s hand slid the heavy wrench she’d used earlier off the table, tensed, and  _ then _ she heard the faint greeting from the front:   
  
“Aster? Aster Prost, isn’t it?” 

Jyn would know the voice anywhere - accented, and warm; too friendly, in the way Cassian  _ always _ spoke when he was trying to win over a new contact. Never the way he spoke to  _ her _ . Which meant...he didn’t know who Aster Prost  _ was _ .

For a minute, Jyn considered staying where she was, hiding in the back rooms, but she also knew better. Her former lover wouldn’t hesitate to come looking for  _ Aster _ if he was here on business, and she’d rather not have their reunion come at the end of a blaster. With an expression more calm than she felt, Jyn brushed aside the curtain the separated one area from another and stepped into the room where Cassian Andor waited.

Anger was the very first emotion on his face, followed rapidly by relief, concern, and wariness all in quick succession. Jyn didn’t say anything, merely moved to stand behind the counter, hands pressed flat against the surface.   
  
“I should have known,” he finally said. “ _ Aster Prost _ sounds just like one of yours.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment,” Jyn replied without looking at him.

“Neither am I.” His tone was flat, but Jyn could practically hear the anger simmering under it. “Your specialty in Imperial and Alliance parts should have been the other giveaway. I guess I didn’t think to look for you in plain sight.”

A soft flutter rippled through Jyn’s stomach; so he  _ had _ looked for her. It was vain to be so pleased - especially considering she’d slipped away before the dawn that morning. She licked her lips, prepared to speak again, but then Cassian was  _ moving _ . He stood just on the other side of the counter, his hands  _ so close _ to hers she felt like they should be touching. They weren’t.

“Don’t,” the word choked out raggedly. “Just don’t, Jyn. It’s been too many years. I only  _ just _ got used to the idea that you didn’t want to be found.”

The soft flutter was obliterated by the pain.

“Why are you here?” She pulled her hands away, slipping them into the pockets of her pants. Jyn wanted to say his name, but she was afraid to. Afraid that it might hurt him. Afraid that it might burn right through the fragile peace.

He studied her for a moment. “The usual.”   
  
“I didn’t think generals did  _ undercover _ .”   
  
“They don’t.”   
  
He hadn’t taken the promotion, and she could see  _ why _ written all over his face. A desk job, with the weight and responsibility and the paperwork, would have hindered his search for her. Jyn’s heart sank. She hadn’t intended this - leaving had been to make things  _ easier _ rather than more difficult.   
  
“Tell me,  _ Aster _ . Do you have somewhere we can talk?”

Jyn nodded, letting her gaze fall away from his face. “What should I call you, then?”

He didn’t answer, merely stepped back from the counter and indicated for her to lead the way. She didn’t like the way she felt so cold, as though all the warmth in the room had gravitated towards him and left her shut out. It didn’t do any good to dwell on the sensation though, and so Jyn did her best not to. Instead she lifted her chin in the direction of the curtain that had previously concealed her from sight. Cassian followed her, passing the fabric over his shoulder. If the droid parts on her workbench were as unsettling to him as they were to her, Jyn didn’t see it reflect on his face.   
  
Truly, she was being shut out.

To their right, a narrow set of stairs opened into her lofted living space. It was a little less cozy than the shop (Jyn spent less time here, to be honest), but the door closed and she knew they could speak freely in the narrow space she had allocated for her bed, kitchen, and table. As she closed that door behind them, Cassian took the seat at her table. He moved stiffly; in a way that made Jyn wonder if old aches were flaring up again. It was instinct to move behind him, would be easy to fall into the habit of the massages a medic had once shown her to ease his tight muscles. Jyn didn’t have that right anymore, so she merely leaned against her door.

“Is there any point to asking why?” He didn’t look at her, in fact kept his shoulders and back angled slightly towards her.

Jyn shrugged, swallowed down the lump in her throat, tried to keep her voice level as she answered him. “Does it really matter anymore?”

It wasn’t a flinch, not really - not on anyone else, but for a man so in control of himself, the heavy blink was as close as Jyn had ever seen on Cassian. She hated herself for the pain that deepened the lines on his face. His shoulders, straight and stiff, slumped slightly.

“It always mattered to me,” Cassian said quietly.

“I know.” The worst part was, Jyn  _ did _ know. The stupid little details, every new scar or habit or gray hair (she was going to salt and pepper like her father,) ever  _ mood _ had always mattered. Cassian wasn’t always a verbal man, but those dark eyes of his missed nothing, and his touch had always conveyed how much she  _ mattered _ . “That’s why I had to leave. I couldn’t talk to you about...shit, I still can’t.”

Her eyes closed, against the fresh wash of grief. Three years later, and the words still wouldn’t form on her tongue. Jyn had never handled that particular emotion well; before there had been a cave where she’d suppressed all of those feelings. Now there was a box, tightly locked, and Cassian  _ was _ the key and she was afraid that at any moment he would spring open the lid and everything,  _ everything _ , would be laid bare.   
  
Later, she’d swear it was the distress that prevented her from hearing the chair scrape across the floor, from missing the signs of movement. Not her being rusty, or how much she still trusted Cassian - even now, when she’d hurt him so deeply.   
  
As it was, she didn’t notice, until his hands gripped her shoulders, and tugged her against him. Cassian’s forehead pressed against the top of her head, and Jyn  _ still _ couldn’t open her eyes. She leaned into the unexpected embrace, pretending the sting in her eyes and the wetness on her cheeks were utterly unrelated.   
  
“You don’t have to talk,” Cassian’s voice was low, the gravelly pitch she only heard when he was fighting back emotions; a tone she’d only heard in their most private moments. Holding her against him on Scarif, dragging her away from Orson Krennic. The first time they were intimate, awkward and hesitant and fumbling. The night she learned there was a second Death Star. “I wasn’t waiting for you to  _ talk _ , Jyn. I already knew what was going on.”   
  
Jyn’s eyes flew open. “You...you  _ knew _ ? All this time and  _ you knew _ ?”

He nodded, the movement pulling at her hair. The desire to run nearly overwhelmed her, and Cassian’s grip moved from her shoulders to her upper arms, tightening as if he knew what she was thinking, even now.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t?” Amusement laced the frustration and pain that was rich in his voice. “Reading people is how I survive, and you...Jyn, we shared a kriffing  _ bed _ . I’ve always taken more time to read  _ you _ .”   
  
When he put it that way, it really was stupid to think that a detail-oriented intelligence professional would have missed the way she’d changed; first for the better, and later for the worst.

“Why didn’t you say?”

“I knew you didn’t want me to.”   
  
She leaned away to look at him better. “You’re not wrong.”   
  
“Well,” he let out a bitter laugh. “I thought I had time on my side. I’d no idea you’d run, I...thought we were beyond that.”   
  
They should have been. Jyn shrugged, unable to see past the tears that were blurring her vision again. “I couldn’t let it go, and that just wasn’t  _ fair _ to you, and…”   
  
“It wasn’t fair not to let me decide.”   
  
“No, it wasn’t.”   
  
Cassian didn’t say anything, and she was glad he didn’t rub that truth in now that it was out. Instead, he folded her into his arms, and against his chest. Jyn knew she wasn’t totally forgiven - it just didn’t  _ work _ that way, after all, but it was clear that she was still wanted and that was a good sign. Maybe forgiveness could come later.   
  
“When you’re ready, Jyn.” Cassian’s breath was warm against her ear, and she didn’t think she’d felt more at peace since before the end of the war. “Come home, okay?”   
  
_ Come home _ .

He made it sound so easy, and maybe it was. All she could do was nod against his chest.


	13. Nerve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this stab at a modern AU fic!

“You have some  _ nerve _ .” 

The words were all but spat across the room as Cassian stepped into it. His colleagues had told him she was spirited when they’d tried to rescue her from the transport taking her to a detention center just outside Mexico City. She’d hit one man with the butt of his own rifle, and had bitten another when they’d gotten too close. They’d joked about him drawing the short end of the stick, being the one to interview her.

Apparently, none of them had realized that Cassian would have thrown himself at the assignment if it hadn’t been given to him. After all, he’d been tracking the little ghost for pver a year now.

His prolonged silence made her uncomfortable, but she tried so hard not to show it. It was in the lift of her chin, in the promise of bruises coming up under her fair skin, the threads of green in her eyes that crackled like lightning. “Well,” she finally huffed. “Are you going to come in and close the door, or am I free to go now?”

Cassian shut the door, amused that her reaction to fear was defiance. He wasn’t surprised though, not with a track record like hers. It had been nearly impossible to track her place of birth, or anything surrounding her early childhood. The first record of her existence didn’t turn up anywhere until she was sixteen; as if she’d sprung from her father’s mind as fully formed as Athena from Zeus. Wisdom was probably not the attribute he’d assign her, but the cunning way she looked at him now, the merry chase of the last fourteen months - Athena was perhaps not a bad comparison. 

“I’m afraid we have some things to discuss before we can talk about letting you go,” Cassian answered her as he took a seat across from her. It wasn’t a formal interrogation room - this was, after all, not a police station. Still it was sparsely furnished with their table and two chairs, and a window cut into the thick wall opposite the door. It was small, and dimly lit, though the sun cast her in bright relief.

“I can’t imagine what you could possibly want with me.” She says, of course. Leaning forward, the handcuffs they left her in rattled against the table. All the records said that she a fighter, but he was relying on the exaggeration that often came from information as patchwork as what he had on her.

“Well, we can start with your name.”

“Lianna,” the words fall easily from her lips, the grace of a practiced liar in each syllable. “Lianna Hallik.”

  
“See, that’s not what I think your name is.” Cassian leaned forward as well, dangerously close, he could almost hear the warning of Miguel and his broken nose screaming in his ears. “Or do you even know what your  _ real _ name sounds like, anymore?”   
  
There - her eyes widened slightly, but otherwise she remained composed. Still, it was enough. He shrugged, watching the play of emotions in her eyes. She knew he had her as well as she did, but pride - stubbornness? - kept her playing at the game.   
  
“I just said my name. Lianna.”

Cassian scratched at his chin. “Come now, Jyn. There’s no reason to lie here. I already  _ know _ who you are.”

Now there  _ is _ fear in her eyes; good. Her father has made her too many enemies, Cassian knew she was too smart,  _ not _ to be afraid now that someone had the secret of her identity.   
  
“You have a lot of nerve,” Jyn hissed again, and then lunged across the table. Cassian threw himself backwards, tipping his chair, but gaining his balance in time to move out of her reach.

“Now. now. That’s not very nice.”

For a moment, Cassian could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He’d done a lot of things in the name of his resistance movement; most of them unpleasant and all of them topics to avoid in polite conversation. Despite that, engaging in a fight with a woman known for a desperately brutal style of fighting was low on his to-do list. “Calm down, Jyn. All I want to do is talk.”   
  
“Talk?”

“If I wanted you dead, you never would have made it this far.” It was matter-of-fact, the confidence of a man who had made sure of such things before. He watched her assess that fact, and then slowly sit back down. “All I want, is to talk to you about your uncle.”

“I don’t have anything to say about Saw.” Jyn looked away, giving Cassian a view of burn scar that began just under her jaw and ran down her neck, under the collar of her shirt.   
  
“Nothing?”   
  
When Jyn turned her stare back on him, Cassian was caught off-guard by the change. Rather than defiant, she now looked defeated. “I haven’t seen him in years.”   
  
“And your father?”   
  
Another visible flinch, before she covered her vulnerability. “He’s dead.”

Cassian didn’t think that was true, but he could sense that now wasn’t the time to push it. “Alright. I’ll have some food or something brought. We can’t let you go until we know more, I’m afraid.”   
  
“You’re a nervy bastard.” There wasn’t heat in her voice, or fire in her eyes, only a numbness that threatened to overwhelm him if he stayed in her presence too much longer. He pushed the chair back in, and decided against meeting her eyes.   
  
“So you’ve said.”


	14. Home

Her fingers curled tight around the crystal she wore under the rough shirt. The fingers of her other hand curled around the blaster she usually wore against her thigh. It was nearly time; the pounding rhythm of her heart counted time with her lips...three….two…. _ one _ .

Distantly, Jyn could hear the explosions going off; the floor under her boots quaked with the shock. It was now or never. She released the crystal, using her newly freed hand to open the door. The hallway was empty, as planned. Jyn had carefully set the charges as far from her hiding places as she could manage, just to ensure that attention was sharply turned to the damage she’d just caused the Destroyer.

_ Ten minutes _ .

She could almost hear Bodhi’s voice counting it down for her now, reminding her that they had such a narrow window to pull this off. Less, if the ‘troopers realized that there were only two rebels on board. Jyn switched her blaster from stun to lethal, and raised it to her shoulder-height as she crept down the empty hall. It hadn’t taken the council long after the Death Star’s destruction to wonder what deeper motives the Empire may have had for obliterating their only information hub. Intelligence had suggested that Tarkin feared what else may have been compromised. _What else._  

Jyn Erso, newly-minted sergeant, had been tasked with finding out what else the Empire might have. Her lack of military bearing or consideration made her a reckless, but terribly efficient, operative. Mon Mothma had reflected that rather than fighting Jyn’s independence, it might be useful. So they’d given her Bodhi and their ship and sent her along.

_ Five minutes _ .

The door she sought came up on Jyn’s left; she lowered her weapon, angled her body to the side, and used the control panel to open the Commander’s office. Holodiscs and actual paper scattered his room; it reminded her fiercely, suddenly, of Galen. Her father’s workspace had sometimes held that same reckless, erratic, look. Jyn swallowed hard, and stepped into the office. There wasn’t  _ time _ to look through the mess for what she needed. Instead she grabbed as many discs as she could reach, set her final charge, and turned -

“Hey! You!” The Commander, looking younger than he had any right to, stood in the doorway. The accusatory finger shook. “Who  _ are- _ ”

Jyn silenced him ruthlessly, finger dragging back on the trigger of her blaster without remorse. She stepped over the Commander’s body, rolled it back into the room. When she thought he maybe deserved better, Jyn reminded herself of Alderaan. Of Jedha. Of the many people she’d known, and loved, who were dead. She made herself close the door and run like hell.

Halfway down the hall, the final charge went; it tossed Jyn painfully across the corridor, banging her arm hard against a console. She scrambled to get away from it, sprinting now towards the hangar. Alarms had begun, orders to evacuate. Her charges had done more than anticipated - Draven or Mothma might be displeased. She couldn’t bring herself to give a damn as she stumbled up the ramp of Bodhi’s cargo ship.   
  
“Go! Bodhi, go  _ now! _ ” Her voice was raw; it always was at this stage of a mission, when memories tore hard at her self-control. The ramp lifted, painfully slowly. Jyn put the safety back on her blaster, staggered towards the cockpit where she could hear Bodhi struggling to send them into hyperdrive by himself. She ought to have helped him, but needed that moment to draw breath into her lungs.    
  
As ever, this was the hardest part.   
  
By the time she was steady, climbing into the cockpit, Bodhi had sent them safely into hyperdrive. He looked at her anxiously as she climbed into her seat. He was, in all honesty, the bravest man she knew - but his fears for her were sometimes overwhelming. Jyn managed to smile at him, even as shaking fingers pulled her crystal out from underneath her shirt.   
  
“Welcome back,” Bodhi said quietly, reassured that she wasn’t bleeding to death on him.   
  
Jyn only smiled in response, but as she tugged Cassian’s coat over her arms she couldn’t help thinking,  _ welcome home _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next three pieces are a continuation of chapter 3 (serenity), and will all be tied in together. :D Hope you enjoy them!


	15. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this little ficlet is a sequel to chapter 3 (serenity) and chapter 14 (home)

When she closed her eyes at night, the first memory to come to her mind was the elevator, on Scarif. Jyn didn’t like thinking about that planet, or the events that had occurred on it, but her brain was traitorous at best - and every night, without fail, it came back to her. As she waited for sleep, fingers gripping tightly the kyber crystal she’d had so long it was an extension of self more than anything else.

It was impossible to forget how warm Cassian’s body had been against hers, the way she’d been holding him up almost by sheer force of will. No one had ever looked at her as he had then, eyes devouring her - making a memory, or a promise, or... _kriff_ , she didn’t know what. It had been intense. He’d breathed in her breath, and she his, and when they’d come to a stop at the bottom of the tower, she almost hadn’t wanted to move. For the barest of moments they’d paused, and she thought he was maybe going to say something to her - something that, in another life, might have been so very important.

Although he hadn’t, it still felt like hope; the bittersweet aftertaste of the memory staying with her long after she’d fallen asleep.

It was the hope that Jyn carried through the course of a day; tucked into her heart like the kyber crystal around her neck, or her body into Cassian’s jacket.

When Hoth got too cold, she remembered the warmth of Cassian’s body against hers. When the jungle of Endor was too warm, she remembered the coolness of his gaze.

And when the second death star shattered in the sky, it was his hope in the tears she cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this little ficlet is a direct sequel to chapter 3 (serenity) and chapter 14 (home).


	16. Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct sequel to: Serenity (3), Home (14), and Hope (15). 
> 
> There's one more piece after this that will...answer some of the questions you will undoubtedly have.

It was a pitiful collection of belongings. Two coats that hadn’t been hers to begin with; both too large to be practically worn. Two shirts; one so old and worn you could practically still see Wobani’s filth ground into the weave, and the other scorched on the sleeve from barely-avoided blaster fire. Her third shirt, too blood-stained, had already been thrown into a rag bin. The crystal necklace she rarely removed lay atop the two shirts. One pair of pants to her name, already on her person. A holster, a blaster, a truncheon, her vest, and her spare undershirt lay on the bed; her boots were on the floor by the door. Twenty-and-some-change years, a _war_ , and this was all that was left of her life.  
  
Jyn, hands on her hips, decided that pitiful as it might have been, it was certainly better than some had. She’d made do with less.  
  
As she dropped the leather thong of her necklace over her head, the door behind her opened. Jyn didn’t turn; it was most likely to be Bodhi. He’d been hovering since he found out she’d turned down a place in the New Republic’s military structure. She was too skittish of being involved in something with that much power, and perhaps Bodhi was as well. He had also turned down a commission and mentioned to her that he’d probably just follow her wherever she was going.

The problem was, Jyn didn’t _know_ where she was going. She hadn’t exactly stopped to think about the future over the course of the last handful of years. Lahmu. Wobani. Jedha. Eadu. Scarif. There were so many places, so many moments, when she was supposed to have died, and hadn’t. Jyn had always figured her number would eventually be up, that she’d never live to see the complete destruction of the Empire, or the new government Mon Mothma and Leia Organa wanted to implement. Yet, here she was. What was she supposed to do now?

A throat cleared; Jyn glanced over her shoulder, and was startled to realize Bodhi Rook hadn’t been the one checking in on her.  
  
The former sergeant turned on her heel, and regarded the steady brown gaze of Princess Leia Organa. They’d known each other since they were children; daughters of powerful men, young girls destined for great and dangerous things. Leia had been a resolute child, straining against her people’s peaceful attitudes. Jyn had barely left Saw’s shadow, until a bored princess had grabbed her hand and dragged her away to _explore_ . As barely-adults, they’d stepped into their fathers’ shoes. Jyn, grasping battle plans with bloody fingers, and Leia delivering them along with the last jedi.  
  
Despite their differences, the two hadn’t been able to forget their days in the shadows cast by the men who had come before them; it was, to be honest, such an unlikely friendship.  
  
Leia smiled now, moved from the doorway into the small room, and perched on the edge of Jyn’s old cot. Her fingers touched the battered leather of Jyn’s stolen coat; her smile wobbled. “This belonged to Captain Andor, didn’t it?”  
  
Jyn shrugged one shoulder, uncomfortable with Leia’s scrutiny. “It was warmer than mine. I decided it shouldn’t go to waste.”  
  
The Princess looked like she didn’t believe Jyn; the older of the pair scowled and began stuffing her spare shirt and undershirt into the leather bag she had _actually_ stolen off the last transport she’d been riding. The cleaner of the two shirts went over her head, and tucked into her trousers. She knew what her old friend was implying; Leia certainly hadn’t been the first to ask Jyn why she still dragged around Captain Andor’s - _Cassian’s_ \- coats. One night in the cantina, a pilot had drunkenly asked her if she was still in love with the late captain. She’d ended up in the brig nursing several busted knuckles after the conversation, and everyone assumed she _was_ . Well, not Bodhi - he’d understood.  
  
Four years had elapsed since Cassian Andor’s death (and Baze Malbus’, and Chirrut Imwe’s, and so many others she had never caught the names of.) She hadn’t had the _time_ to love him, though she suspected if he hadn’t died in her arms in the back of a cargo ship desperately trying to escape Darth Vader’s fleet...she might have.  
  
_She might have_ .  
  
“What will you do now?” Leia was asking, and Jyn dragged her thoughts away from the dead intelligence officer with considerable effort.  
  
“I hadn’t thought about it, really.” Jyn muttered, ignoring the amusement on Leia’s face. This was one of the ways the two differed. The Princess generally had a plan, or an idea, or _something_ . Jyn tended to freefall until she landed somewhere. Admittedly, this was how she’d ended up in a labor camp, and Leia running a successful campaign against a galactic dictator.  
  
Leia withdrew her hand from the coats, and Jyn folded them up and stuffed them into the large leather bag. She slipped her vest over her shirt, and reached for her holsters. The Princess leaned her elbows on her knees, and pressed her chin into her hand. “I thought you might not have,” Leia admitted. “That’s why I’m here.”  
  
Well, it was nice to know Leia had a _reason_ for sitting on her bunk, dredging up painful memories and stark realities, Jyn supposed.  
  
“You know, my brother wants to open a school for Force-sensitive children,” Leia continued. “Bodhi Rook expressed some interest in participating, although he’s planning on leaving with you. I think he sees it as something he can do in memory of Jedha.”  
  
Jyn didn’t answer. Unlike her old friend, she didn’t know the feeling of _actually_ losing your entire world. Leia would have many opportunities to make sure that Alderaan was never forgotten, but someone like Bodhi...the opportunities were slim. Jyn wished he’d go with Luke.  
  
“Jyn,” Leia started again. She sounded hesitant, and it was so rare from the ever-confident Leia that it drew Jyn’s full attention. “Luke could use your help, too. You’re not...strong enough to be a Jedi, but I _know_ you’ve felt the Force.”  
  
The hesitation was necessary, after all. Jyn let out a bark of laughter. “It’s instinct, Leia. I’m not...I’m not _Chirrut_ . I don’t feel the Force that way.”  
  
Leia nodded pointedly to the necklace hidden beneath Jyn’s shirt. “Luke says otherwise. You’re not as Force-sensitive as the children he wants to teach, Jyn, but it’s _enough_ .”  
  
“Kriff, what would I even do there, Leia?” Jyn shrugged unhappily as she slid her blaster and truncheon into their holsters.  
  
“You have more to offer than you think, Jyn.” Leia replied, confidence back in her tone. “Your combat skills, for one. But you understand that some things are _important_ .” There was a marked pause, and then. “You know how important it is to have a _home_ . You could help be that, for a lot of children who don’t have one right now.”  
  
The Princess stood, then. She was petite, like Jyn, but her hand settled easily on the older woman’s shoulder. “Just think about it. If nothing else...it’s someplace to land. I know the Rebellion has been your home since you returned. You need that belonging again.”  
  
Leia’s grip tightened once, and then she was striding out the door and leaving the small room somehow smaller for her absence. Jyn squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drown out the voices that plagued her so often. Chirrut and Baze talking quietly about Jedha. K-2SO’s constant snark from a cockpit. Cassian, warm and circling her like she was his star, welcoming her _home_ .  
  
It was time to stop looking behind, and to start looking into the _future_ .  
  
Jyn slung her bag over her shoulder; Bodhi would he happy to know they had a direction, assuming Luke Skywalker actually _wanted_ them.


	17. Home pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a direct sequel to Serenity (3), Home (14), Hope (15), and Future (16).
> 
> I...needed to upload this immediately. This whole arc has been giving me all the feelings, and sitting on it is just. SO EXCRUCIATING. So...buckle up, my ducklings. (Maybe also have tissues handy? idk)

It had taken year to find her footing with Luke Skywalker, and his Force-sensitive students. She wasn’t exactly  _ maternal _ and any thoughts of her functioning in that capacity were thankfully either non-existent, or evaporated almost immediately. Oh, she couldn’t deny that she grew fond of (and protective over) the children quickly; she just...wasn’t the most comforting person in the world.   
  
Fortunately, they had Bodhi for  _ that _ . (With Luke as a close second, to be honest.)   
  
Jyn found herself sympathizing, belatedly, with Saw Gerrera. Some of the children barely left her shadow, desperate not to have another adult disappear from their lives. Others resented her; she was  _ not _ their mother, after all. In each of them, she saw fragments of herself. So Jyn didn’t try to be a mother, or a father, or anyone but an adult who sat at the foot of a crying child’s bed, and promised that she would never let any harm come to them. She was a mentor, a friend, a  _ tough old bitch _ (to the older children who learned stick fighting from her.) In time, she had encouraged all of the children to stop calling her  _ Miss Erso _ . She was, simply, Jyn.   
  
It was a cool afternoon; this world boasted four seasons - and this was the one a native child had delightedly described as  _ Fall _ early into their first year; Jyn assumed it was named for the falling tree leaves the little girl had been spinning around in at the time. Presently, she sat on what had once been a grand balcony (and was now a meditation classroom); her knee pressing against that of the teenage girl sitting beside her. Calla was the eldest of the Force Sensitive children who had been orphaned in the war, and later personally found by Luke Skywalker. She had also been the  _ angriest _ and resented Luke for...well, they never did discover  _ what _ exactly. The girl had fallen into Jyn’s care. Too old to need much coddling, too angry to want a parent, and too volatile not to train - Luke had remarked, with a wry grin, that this was exactly why he’d wanted Jyn here.   
  
Anger, he’d told Jyn, could be a weapon...but only if it wasn’t out of control.    
  
Since then, the teenager had barely left Jyn’s side. They were practicing meditation now -  _ practicing  _ because although Chirrut had shown Jyn once years ago, she was hardly an expert - when Calla stirred.   
  
“Someone’s coming,” the Togrutan murmured under her breath. She fidgeted, and her bony knee dug further into Jyn’s.   
  
“ _ Focus _ ,” Jyn replied, nudging the girl back with her own knee. “You’re supposed to be focusing  _ inward _ .”   
  
Calla shook her head, eyes still closed. Jyn could sense the movement (Luke had been right all those years ago, damnit,) and opened her own eyes. Furrowed ridges formed in the girl’s forehead. “Jyn, maybe  _ you _ should focus. I sense...it is an arrival for  _ you _ .”   
  
Jyn huffed lightly.  _ This _ was the bother of teaching children more powerful than she was. Still, she’d learned to take her students seriously - Calla, in particular, didn’t joke often - and she obediently closed her eyes and focused. She sensed warmth, like the heat of a summer afternoon slowly baking into her skin; she sensed sandpaper, and glass.    
  
She sensed  _ home _ .   
  
Abruptly, the woman broke out of her meditation, scrambling to her feet. Calla smiled slightly. “Who is he?”   
  
“He’s dead,” Jyn retorted. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of a ship landing; Bodhi’s familiar voice cutting across the rural silence that surrounded the school; Luke’s laughter following after it.   
  


The teenager’s eyes opened once more, expression arched into her face. “The Force doesn’t lie, Jyn.”   
  
Without her consent, Jyn’s hand lifted to the kyber crystal she’d - finally - taken to wearing openly. It was warm under her fingers and, unbidden, her mother’s final words to her surfaced in her mind.  _ Trust the Force _ .   
  
“Maybe, sometimes, it’s wrong.” Jyn said quietly. She exited the room without looking at her student again.   
  
She found her room, near-blinded by tears, and found the small chest that held her clothes through memory alone. The leather jacket lay in the bottom (she’d sacrificed the parka that first winter to a tall boy with no coat and no defense against the cold,) and she gathered it carefully in her hands. It didn’t smell like Cassian, not anymore. Still, with her newfound skills she could sense his presence on it.    
  
Jyn curled around it like a small child, wedged into a corner of her room with her knees to her chest, and wept.   


 

  
\---   


 

  
Bodhi was the first to knock at her door, some hours later. He was easy enough to ignore. Calla was harder, but the threat to pick the lock (as she’d shown the girl over the late winter in a fit of boredom,) brought at least a smile to her lips. Jyn had not moved from her spot on the floor, even though she felt like she could  _ sense _ him, moving around the school. Leia, her presence impossible to mistake (like Luke’s it was bright; the twin suns over Tattooine,) was here as well.   
  
Jyn didn’t think she could face anyone. Not if what she felt was true; certainly not if she was  _ imagining _ it.   
  
The sun had set, by the time someone developed the nerve to actually pick the lock of her door, and push it open. Jyn squeezed her eyes against the sensation of  _ feeling _ someone she had thought dead for five long years. She could ignore the instinct screeching at the back of her mind. She  _ couldn’t _ ignore the press of his shoulder against hers, as Cassian Andor settled onto the floor.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. He was so close, she felt his breath against the side of her face. Jyn couldn’t look at him, couldn’t suppress the soft sob she muffled against his coat. “Jyn…”   
  
Her name brought with it something  _ new _ . The feeling started in her stomach, and burned upwards - bright, and painful, and with the bitter tang of bile.  _ Anger _ . Jyn surged to her feet, arms still locked around the leather coat, and stepped around him. She didn’t leave the room, but she breathed deeply of the chilled air away from Cassian.   
  
“You were  _ dead _ .” She snapped. “You were  _ kriffing dead _ Cassian.”   
  
“I was on assignment,” he corrected quietly, from his place on the floor. Later, she’d think about the quiet agony she could feel stirring in him. Right now, she was too caught up in her own, soothing, anger.   
  
“You  _ left me _ .” The words were savage; laced with something that wasn’t quite anger, but was too jagged and sharp to be sorrow. She paced like a wounded animal.   
  
“I know.” Cassian didn’t try to defend himself, and that more than anything, drew her to finally look at him.   
  
“Cassian, you let me think you died on that cargo ship,” the words were strangled, just more than a whisper. “They wouldn’t let me see you, and then they told me you died before they could immerse you in bacta. You were dead for  _ five years _ . Why are you here  _ now? _ ”   
  
His throat worked; Cassian was doing a better job holding back the tears than she was, but then, he’d always been the better liar. “The last thing I remembered was your face, Jyn. I woke up three days later. General Draven said he’d killed me, officially, for your benefit.” He paused, licked his lips, and continued. “They knew the Empire didn’t destroy Scarif just for plans that were already compromised; we - the Alliance - needed someone deep inside to find out what else there was.”   
  
Jyn sat down on the edge of her bed. “That was my mission,” she said flatly. “Following leads, and retrieving plans.”   
  
“ _ Our _ mission,” Cassian said gently. He pushed himself off the floor, and joined her on the bed.    
  
She turned her head, staring at him. “You were on the  _ insi- _ ” Jyn’s voice broke off, eyes growing rounded. “You were our contact.”   
  
For four years, she’d trusted that source; had jumped when it had asked, even when she didn’t think there was a place to land. Instinct, she’d told herself, was guiding her in that trust. Now she wondered if she had known - even then, through the Force - who her silent partner had been.   
  
Cassian reached over, gently tugging on the jacket she held. “Leia told me you kept this.”   
  
For all that his voice was even, and quiet, Jyn thought she could detect a little hope in it. She nodded. “I had the parka for a long time, too.”    
  
Silence descended, and Jyn slid closer to Cassian, nestling her head against his shoulder. “What will you do now?”   
  
He shrugged, and then laughed a little ruefully. “I have no idea. The Rebellion was my life and now..” another shrug, before he quietly added. “I  _ had _ hoped…”   
  
Jyn could sense his hope. More than anything she’d ever encountered she could  _ feel _ Cassian Andor. He was nervous. Afraid she wouldn’t forgive the wartime deception, and that she would reject him. Hopeful...that he could perhaps, have a place here as well.    
  
Her hand snaked around his arm, catching his own hand in hers. “Welcome _ home _ , Cassian.”


	18. Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece is a sequel to Nerve (13), but can also probably be read as a standalone. :D Hope you enjoy the return to a modern AU!

The second time Cassian interviewed his prisoner, she surprised him.   
  
He opened the door cautiously, expecting that she’d had enough time to devise a means of escape, or a plan for incapacitating him. Cassian’s colleagues underestimated Jyn Erso, but he’d spent  _ fourteen months  _ studying her trail. She preferred to avoid conflict when she could, but didn’t hesitate to effectively shut it down when she couldn’t. Yet, as he stepped into the room, it became obvious that Jyn had done none of these things.

She stood near the window. It made him realize, with a start, how small she  _ actually _ was. Jyn’s chin was on level with the sill. Cassian waited, but she didn’t seem interested in acknowledging him, so he closed the door and resumed his seat at the table. Jyn’s shoulder leaned more heavily into the wall, and although she didn’t turn her head, he could see her gaze flicker over to him.   
  
“It’s getting late,” he offered in way of greeting. “Why don’t we talk, so we can go get something to eat.”   
  
Jyn’s lips twitched into a bitter smile. “You know, that’d almost work if I didn’t know what you were doing.”

Cassian shrugged. Most of his interrogation methods were self-taught, or learned from an older member of the resistance group. Few of them had been able to get any formal training, but everyone said that Cassian had taken to spy work and questioning prisoners like he was born to do it. Usually he didn’t have this problem, but Jyn was clearly very different.

“It was worth trying,” he said finally. Jyn shook her head slightly, and her gaze wandered back to the window. She couldn’t see anything of their village from here, and Cassian would be lying to pretend that wasn’t intentional. Only fields stretched out before the window’s view; fields, and distant green.   
  
They lapsed into silence, Cassian once again attempting to wait her out, soothed by the sounds of wildlife, the distant sound of childish laughter, and, less distantly, the strains of music. He realized suddenly that she’d managed to get the window open.   
  
But she hadn’t run.   
  
“Where is the music coming from?” It was a soft question, not at all the combative spirit he’d come to expect from her.   
  
Cassian gave her question some thought. He didn’t want to expose anyone, but this was the conversational in he’d been looking for. “Javier,” replied Cassian, settling on vague truth. “He was a violinist, before.”   
  
Silence descended, as Cassian waited for the inevitable question: before  _ what _ . Jyn didn’t seem to know who they were, or their connections to her father and the man who had actually raised her. But instead, Jyn simply nodded and didn’t acknowledge him beyond that. Her hands, still cuffed, lifted to toy with a necklace Cassian hadn’t noticed before.   
  
“This was my mother’s favorite song,” Jyn said idly. Cassian wasn’t sure she even knew she was speaking out loud. “She used to sing it, when we lived on the farm. Not- not  _ sing _ it, there are no words. But she’d sing the notes. I haven’t heard it, since.”   
  
He decided not to ask since  _ when _ .   
  
They waited in silence, until the end of the song, and then Jyn carefully lifted her hands to close the window. She kept her back to him. 

“Why are you looking for Saw?” Jyn asked him, then. “I can’t imagine what use he would be for you.”   
  
Cassian thought about the defeated look she’d worn when he had left, about the song that reminded her of a woman who’d been inclined to sing on a farm, somewhere. It wasn’t the details of the story he felt the need to explore, so much as the woman who looked so hollowed and hungry, standing across the room from him.   
  
“He knows where your father is, Jyn.” Cassian said slowly, watching the tension return to her shoulders. “Your father has something that we need. Something that could destroy us, and  _ everything _ we’ve worked for.”   
  
It had been a gamble, and he waited in the fragile wake. After a moment that felt like eternity, Jyn nodded. “I don’t know for sure  _ where _ Saw is...but I can take you to where he’s likely to be.”   
  
Cassian couldn’t begin to untangle the heavy, emotional, undertone in her words. His superiors didn’t necessarily want him to. Jyn was a tool, a means to an end. But as Cassian reflected on her eyes, on the way she had  _ looked _ at him, he thought she was probably a good deal more than just that.


	19. Confined

Tentatively, Cassian touched his tongue to the split in his lip. It ached, throbbing in time with the heavy bruising in his jaw, with the ribs that felt cracked; with the dull pain that flared up in his back whenever he pushed himself too far. He’d been stupid, and once again it had landed him in a prison cell. He tested the restraints on his wrists, tugged on the tether that held him to the wall. They were stronger than he’d hoped.

He could  _ just _ reach the door of the cell; Cassian pressed his forehead to it. Yes, he’d been stupid, but it would be worth it if Jyn had gotten away. That little tablet was sewn into his collar - he could reach it, his captors hadn’t pegged him for Intelligence or they’d have removed that option from him.

Cassian was not afraid to die, it was just that he didn’t want to do it  _ here _ .

Confinement never set well with the man. He’d always been a creature of movement, leaving places and  _ people _ behind without much regret. Cassian avoided burning bridges when he could, but he’d also never been above torching them at the right time. Looking back, revisiting, was never a good idea. It got one killed. That detachment had always served him well before, and he’d managed to  _ lose _ it somewhere on Jedha. Perhaps when Jyn had protected his body with her own, or when she’d saved the child, or selflessly thrown herself between a droid that hated her and a blaster, or...so many times over. Even now, he could recall straining to listen for the sound of  _ her _ footsteps as he was marched along to the last cell he’d been in. He could recall the feel of her arms around him, on a Scarif beach, waiting to  _ die _ .

Hope, of life, of a death of his own choosing, had crept in when Cassian wasn’t looking; he couldn’t tell if Jyn had followed in its wake, or the other way around.

So he didn’t want to work that little pill free of the fabric of his shirt, didn’t want to say goodbye to the idea of Jyn, of being  _ with _ her. Common sense told him that Jyn had reached the ship, that Kaytoo had taken her offworld, following Cassian’s own instructions. A less rational voice told him that Jyn Erso didn’t exactly bend a knee to  _ common sense _ .

Cassian would wait. Jyn would come for him.

Jyn, of all people, would never leave him behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, RebelCaptainPrompts has announced that prompt #20 will be their last. I have to admit, I'm going to really miss them, and the way that they have motivated me to accomplish so much within this specific fic, and this fandom as a whole. This chapter represents prompt #11, and I have determined to finish out all 20 prompts (plus the 7 rebelcaptainweek prompts as already completed.) After that...I'm not sure where we'll go. I might break out several of the AUs that you guys have expressed interest in seeing more of. I might find another prompt generator. I would definitely love to take some prompts from you guys!
> 
> Let me know in the comments if you have any suggestions or ideas! :D


	20. Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new AU, maybe? One where Saw Gerrera doesn't abandon Jyn at sixteen, and she later crosses paths with Cassian Andor, Rebel Intelligence. :D

He never saw her coming, which was probably the entire point of arming a girl  _ that _ young with a blaster, and putting her in the path of an Alliance officer. Cassian froze, letting his hands ascend slowly into the air while he studied her more closely. She was eighteen at the most, short but a little too curvy to be called petite. A little too  _ muscular _ to be considered petite, Cassian amended, eyes following the curve of a well-muscled thigh.

“Do you always leer at someone when they have a blaster pulled on you?” The taunt would have been threatening, if it wasn’t couched in a soft voice with a delightful accent. A  _ posh _ one, his mind supplied. Touches of Coruscant, though it was rough around the edges now. Cassian brought his gaze back to hers. The lack of threat was intentional, most likely. The look in the young woman’s eyes told him she’d have no problem actually pulling that trigger.

He shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve ever had a pretty woman point a blaster at me, before.”   
  
_ That _ was a lie. Beautiful women were frequently armed to the teeth, and though he’d never personally run afoul of one, several of his contacts had drawn on him before realizing who he was. This  _ girl _ didn’t need to know that.

“Can I ask  _ why _ you’re pointing it at me?” Cassian kept his voice light.

“You can ask,” she replied as lightly. The tiny smirk gave her away before she could add, “but I probably won’t answer.”

No, he didn’t suppose she would. Cassian could draw some of his own conclusions, though. An Imperial agent wouldn’t still be  _ talking _ , and if they were, he’d be hearing the heavy boots of ‘troopers by now. If she was Alliance, he’d  _ know _ . She’d have used a code, or be actively looking for him. If she was a thief, he’d be short a few more credits. It really only left fractious rebel cells, and only  _ one _ would send a girl on her own to tackle an Alliance agent. This was a member of Saw Gerrera’s band of rebels.

More importantly, this was Saw Gerrera’s  _ daughter _ .

Jyn’s reputation preceded her, as did the rumors that her father had tortured men for doing as much as questioning how someone who looked like Saw had taken on a child who looked like this girl. Just being  _ near _ her was dangerous...and from the way she held her blaster, steady even after these long minutes, the paranoid gaze of her father wasn’t the only reason.

“Suit yourself,” Cassian said slowly. “Jyn.”

He’d startled her. Jyn’s eyes went rounder at the edges, though her composure otherwise stayed firmly in place. “You’re smarter than the average Alliance flyboy.”

The flat tone left Cassian wondering what her experience with Alliance pilots had been in the past. It seemed out of character that Saw would let his daughter anywhere near someone who might hurt her. Then again, he’d sent her to detain Cassian on her own. Another Alliance agent might have killed her by now. Hell,  _ Cassian _ should have killed her by now. Might have, too, if she hadn’t caught him so off-guard or if he’d been less intrigued by the reality of such a small woman who cast such a large shadow.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  
“You should.”   
  
Cassian chanced half a step forward. Jyn’s blaster shifted, pointed now at his face rather than his chest. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she warned. “I’ll still kill you.”   
  
Except that she hadn’t? So  _ what _ -

It occurred to Cassian, moments too late, that Saw’s daughter wasn’t here to take him down. She was here as a  _ distraction _ . Jyn’s eyes shifted, and only seconds after that a massive explosion ripped through the city’s center; they were protected from debris by the strong walls of the alley Jyn had shoved him into when she’d first pulled that damn blaster and pressed it into his spine. Now, she was lowering that weapon, the smirk pulling at her lips again.   
  
“See you next time, Alliance.”   
  
He knew he ought to follow her, but Cassian suspected that Jyn was an effective ghost. Instead, he leaned heavily into the wall, and tried to banish the strange feelings conjured by the even stranger exchange. If he wasn’t careful, the woman was going to prove to be a longer term distraction than she had probably intended.


	21. Desperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an indirect sequel to Confined (19), but can absolutely be read without the prior chapter. Enjoy!

As far as safe houses went, it wasn’t much. Just a tiny room wedged in the back of a family dwelling that was used by various partners and children of Alliance fighters. It was the sort of place Cassian tended to avoid; a poignant reminder that many of his compatriots had a future waiting for them.   
  
Still, he was grateful. Compared to an Imperial cell, the closet-sized room he was sharing with Jyn was a paradise; hard mattress and barely-functioning refresher included. By the time Jyn had managed to drag him out of captivity, Cassian hadn’t been in any shape to ask questions or make demands of where they were going. Now, a week later, he was feeling vaguely human and perhaps ready to face some of the things she’d been trying to keep from him.    
  
He rolled over on the hard bed, hands finding the warmth of the space Jyn had left moments before, excusing herself to the ‘fresher, though he’d heard the door open and close. It took more effort than Cassian liked - though less effort than the day before - to push himself out of bed and follow her. He was still shrugging into his shirt when he joined Jyn in the absolute darkness of the small stoop. The planet’s blackouts at night protected them somewhat from Imperial notice, and Cassian was grateful that it afforded them a little more freedom to move at night. Only the faint pinprick of a galaxy full of stars broke up the darkness of the sky; this world had no moon.   
  
“Do you want to talk about what’s been bothering you?” Cassian asked, lowering himself by touch until he sat with his side pressed flush against hers. Jyn didn’t say anything at first, but he felt her body sag slightly against his. “Because I do.”   
  
“Cassian…” There was enough desperation in her voice to give him pause, but he didn’t think asking her to talk was the cause, so he waited her out, winding one arm around her. “How long has this war been on?”   
  
Well, that was a question he wasn’t sure how to answer. At least, not off the cuff. Cassian’s free hand scratched at the thick beard that had grown in his time away from base. They’d be returning soon, now that he could be up and about. He was looking forward to a shave. The inconsequential thought made it easier to consider Jyn’s heavier question. “Longer than we want to admit,” he finally hedged.   
  
“Mm.” Jyn leaned back against his arm, tilting her face up to look at the stars. Cassian could barely make out the pale smudge of her jaw and cheek in the dark. “Saw used to say it never ended.”   
  
“Saw said a lot of things,” Cassian pointed out. “He was jaded before the Empire even existed.”   
  
“That’s just it,” Jyn replied. She curled against him, and it was a rare moment for the woman - she was small, and vulnerable, and cold. Nothing like the vivid star Chirrut had once painted her, but also not the guarded and evasive woman he had first met. “The war with the Separatists became the Rebel Alliance. What came before that?”   
  
Cassian shrugged. “On Fest, we mostly only fought off Storm Troopers.”   
  
He could feel her arm lift between them, reaching for the crystal he knew she was wearing even now. “The Trade Federation,” Jyn went on as if he hadn’t interjected. “They ran blockades and embargoes, and before them…”   
  
In the dark her voice trailed off, but in the flat undertones, Cassian knew the desperation was still there. So he rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, and said gently, “what’s your point, Jyn?”   
  
“It never ends.” She said quietly. “We’ve talked about what we’ll do when this is over...but it’s  _ never _ really over, is it? Not for us.”   
  
This was heading in a direction Cassian didn’t want to think about. “Jyn…”   
  
“You used to throw rocks at Clone Troopers. My papa taught me how to count every exit in a room.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “We were both  _ six _ Cassian. What do we know about a life after, or a life before? I was born in a prison cell, and you were practically born into occupation, and we haven’t done anything but fight since.”   
  
He let the words settle, in both of them. Jyn wasn’t  _ wrong _ . Cassian didn’t know how to be anything other than a soldier, and she didn’t know how to be anything but rebellion personified, and it  _ worked _ for them now. If she was right, it was going to work for them until the day they died.   
  
“What if,” he said softly, against her hair. “We just take the next chance, and the next, and see where we end up when the chances are spent?”   
  
It wasn’t a  _ great _ answer, but he’d learned years ago that Jyn preferred honesty over soothing. Her arms slid around his body, and she pulled even closer to him. Cassian didn’t know where their lives were going to go, if they would  _ survive _ to see an after, or if an after would ever even exist. Maybe, for them, it was better to just not think about their lives more than a step or two ahead of where they were. Tomorrow, they’d go back to the base. The day after, they’d take their next assignment., and from there. Cassian couldn’t predict where they would go.   
  
He tipped his own head back to look at the stars speckled against the inky sky. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t see their future; he knew that Jyn would be in it, and that’s all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed a set number of chapters for this fic; I've decided to wrap up the RebelCaptainPrompts fics here, and then begin a new fic or series for prompts I gather either from you guys, tumblr, or RebelCaptainNetwork's friday prompts. I've loved writing this fic, and I hope some of you will come find my other writing, or my new prompt catch-all. <3


	22. Shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, this is a more...loose interpretation? I did manage to work a conjugation of the word into the fic? I still really like it, though. So there's that.

That first week Cassian had been gone, Jyn had sat up late, waiting for some kind of word or sign that his mission was going well. It wasn’t that she  _ expected _ anything - he was a spy, after all - but a part of her had  _ hoped _ anyway. Six whole days she’d felt half of herself, going through the motions of her work on base - the rank of  _ sergeant _ wasn’t just for show - and laying awake in a small bed that somehow felt so vast without him in it.

When her own assignment had come on the seventh day, Jyn’s fingers had gone automatically to the necklace hidden by her shirt; the kyber crystal, and the plain, battered, ring that accompanied it. There had never been time for a formal union, and to be honest, Jyn didn’t want one. Cassian sliding the ring on her finger, and promising he would  _ always _ come back for her, had been enough. But now, with the uncertainty of war looming in front of her, Jyn missed him. They’d chosen a life like this, but that didn’t make it any easier.

So she’d led her squad to the dangerous jungles of Kashyyk first, and then to the next world, and the next. Cassian picked locked doors and minds, prying necessary information out of the most unlikely places. Jyn, and her team, kicked down doors and blazed trails and saw maybe as many worlds as he did, but from utterly different vantages.

At first, Jyn thought they were maybe just missing each other. Every time she stumbled back to their room on base for a few hours of sleep, it was empty and the bed as neatly made as she’d left it. Four months in, she was coming to the realization that Cassian simply hadn’t been back. Jyn stopped making the bed, started leaving signs of life at the tiny desk, in the equally small ‘fresher, hoping that the next time she returned it would be disturbed, or cleaned, or  _ something _ .

It wasn’t.

Jyn waited eight months, before she approached General Draven. The only thing he could tell her was that Cassian wasn’t dead. Although she and Draven had not seen eye to eye in the past, the General’s voice was not unkind when he told her it was al he could say, and the hand that gripped her shoulder was more full of sympathy than disdain.    
  
After that, she threw herself into work. She didn’t linger in the hangar, waiting for Cassian to return; she didn’t lay awake half the night expecting him to come join her in bed. Those things only made her miss him more, and so she locked away her longing, and her love, and all the things about him that were maddening and distracting.    
  
Three more months trickled by; she couldn’t help counting the days, even when it made things worse.   
  
One afternoon, she was going over supplies in the area designated for Pathfinders; a badly-timed jump had broken her ankle in three places, and rather than accepting medical leave with grace, she had bullied her way into a makeshift quartermaster position. She hated having to calculate supplies and nag young soldiers about not losing their weapons while they were on assignment, but it was certainly better than nothing. The work, and its long hours, gave her excuses to avoid her room and to avoid the hangar, and that was probably the best thing about it. No one bothered her here much, either, except Bodhi when he brought them both lunch and teased smiles out of her. (Honestly, she didn’t deserve a friend like Bodhi Rook, and the  _ next _ person who hurt her best friend was going to be missing a few teeth.) In fact, as the door off to her left opened, Jyn assumed Bodhi had brought her something to eat, or wanted to let her know he’d be gone a few days - he was always so considerate like that.    
  
When a hand slid around her hip, the touch was shocking, like a blaster bolt searing up ever nerve ending. Jyn turned to break the contact, and  _ just _ had time to recognize Cassian before his lips settled over hers.   
  
At some point, before they came up for air, he’d pushed her back against the wall of the small room. Her arms had wound themselves around his neck, holding him against her as he pulled his lips from hers and pressed them instead to her temples, to her hair. Cassian was thinner under her arms; she could feel his shoulder blades jutting out underneath her hands, feel how bony his torso was, pressed against hers.   
  
“Cassian,” she mumbled against his neck. “Cassian, I need to  _ sit _ .”   
  
Because at some point in the last few minutes she’d forgotten that she couldn’t actually stand without her crutches. He pulled away from her, dark eyes sweeping from the top of her head, to the bare toes peeking out from the cast on her ankle. That too-familiar frown furrowed in his brow, but he simply slid his arm around her waist and helped her hobble over to a chair. “What happened?”   
  
Jyn snorted, melting into her seat. “I should be asking you that.”   
  
She watched him rub his hand against the thick beard on his chin. Jyn didn’t think she’d  _ ever _ seen him with a beard so full; she wasn’t sure she quite liked it.    
  
“Alright,” Cassian conceded. He drew up a crate and sat down in front of her, stooping to lift her ankle onto his knees. Jyn watched his thumb rub across the hard cast, and knew he was thinking about how this was the  _ same _ ankle she’d damaged on Scarif. “But you first.”   
  
“I took a badly-timed jump,” Jyn admitted. She wiggled her toes, even though it hurt a little, and watched the barest trace of a smile tug on the corners of his lips. “There may have been a child involved, and Bodhi personally carried me to the Med Bay and read me a riot act worthy of Kaytoo himself.”   
  
“Mm.” Cassian turned his attention from her foot to her face. “I know asking you not to do that again is a waste of my breath, but maybe time the jump better next time.”   
  
Jyn loved that Cassian didn’t actually ask her not to jump. They both knew she’d do whatever she felt was right or necessary in the moment, without regard for her own safety. Just as they both knew that Cassian was ready to lay down his life for the Rebellion if it was necessary. It was part of why they’d kept their private vow exchange between them.    
  
“It’s your turn,” she reminded him. “You’ve been gone eleven months.”   
  
“I know.” Cassian sighed heavily. “There’s not much I can tell you, Jyn. I was in deep cover.”   
  
She studied his thin frame; he didn’t appear to be injured, but he carried himself like he had been. “It wasn’t a pleasant cover, was it?”   
  
He smiled thinly. “They never are, Jyn.” Still, he paused to weigh her question in his mind. “You would have come after me if you’d known more about this one.”   
  
Well, that explained Draven.   
  
“You’re home now,” Jyn said. It didn’t have a finality to it, because they both knew that one or the other would have to leave again. But for the moment, Cassian was home.   
  
“Yeah,” Cassian confirmed. “Yeah, I am.”


	23. Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just seems so wrong to get to the end of this series and NOT do a soulmate AU so...here you go. <3 (Also this is absolutely a cop-out, I don't know how to write straight fluff to save my life.)

It happened when Jyn was fifteen, a sharp pain scraping along her ribs that felt like something was carving into her. She knew what it was, immediately. After all, she was laying in the safety of her bunk, the pre-dawn light turning everything into a soft haze. What else could it be, but the mark of her soulmate? Jyn didn’t have any injuries, and certainly no one was stabbing her as she lay on her side in bed. 

Later, in the large ‘fresher that served the partisans, Maia pointed it out before Jyn got her towel around herself. The words, black on red, irritated, skin wrapped along her ribs and just under her left breast.  _ When was the last time you were in contact with your father? _ It was a dangerous mark; Jyn turned away from Maia’s curious gaze.

“You don’t talk about him much,” the other woman tried, conversationally.   
  
“Who? Saw?” Jyn shifted the towel to her waist, pulled on her breast band and adjusted it to hide the angry, raw, flesh that existed under the damning mark. “No reason to, you can ask him about himself.”   
  
Behind her, Maia sighed heavily. “We all know Saw took you in, but he’s not your  _ real _ father.” The other human female lightly tossed her wash cloth at Jyn. “You gonna tell your soulmate about him.”   
  
“Not likely.” Jyn finished getting ready with brisk, practiced, movements. She supposed most girls felt something different about discovering they had a soulmate - joy, or giddiness, or something. Mostly, Jyn just felt like a soulmate was another person to let her down. “You better get dressed, or you’ll be late to training.”   
  
“Oh, come on.” Maia whined, but with an undertone of humor and the sound of fabric dragging over damp skin. “My instructor is right here.”   
  
“Your instructor is going to kick your ass if you don’t shut up,” Jyn snapped back. The older girl’s mouth closed with an audible click, and Jyn tied her hair back with ruthless precision. She didn’t want to talk about soulmates, or fathers, and around here she had enough reputation that a silly girl like Maia wasn’t going to cross.   
  
Still, as Jyn left the room, her fingertips pressed against her ribs. Who was this soulmate of hers, and why would they be asking about Galen Erso?   
  
A chill went down her spine

  
  


\---

  
  


Cassian Andor was similarly underwhelmed by his soulmate mark. It had appeared when he was fourteen, down his right inside forearm in broad letters:  _ fifteen years ago.  _ It hadn’t been important at the time, and it wasn’t much more important now. Another Intelligence agent - a tall woman with green eyes and blonde hair - brushed into him in the serving line, her eyes sweeping down to his bared forearms; sleeves rolled up in the Yavin heat. Whatever interest had been in her face faded into disappointment.   
  
He was marked.   
  
It made no difference to Cassian. He was sure that for some, knowing they had a soulmate out there in the galaxy brought a little more joy to an otherwise bleak existence. Maybe he’d felt that way sometimes, long ago, when the mark had first appeared. With each day that slipped by though, the officer was more certain that it was a complication. The words sounded like the answer to a question; possibly  _ his _ question.   
  
The thought of having to interrogate his own soulmate left him a little queasy.   
  
Still, Cassian supposed he’d done worse, in the name of the Alliance. He took his tray, found a seat a little ways apart from anyone else, and settled it on the metal table. With his left hand, he rolled down the right sleeve of his shirt. Maybe it was better if he didn’t look at it.   
  
  
\---

  
  
The woman was small - almost impossibly so - but her anger was larger than her body; an impudence that radiated off her in waves. Poor Melshi had nearly gotten his nose broken, getting too close to the Erso woman. Despite her small stature, her body was strong - he could tell it was, even from here.   
  
“When was the last time you were in contact with your father?” He watched her flinch, even as her hands pressed harder into the table in front of her; the binders, almost too large for her thin wrists, made a loud sound as they banged against the table’s edge.    
  
Her eyes - green, he noted with detachment - fixed on him sharply. For now, he was the center of her attention.   
  
“Fifteen years ago,” she answered deliberately. Cassian did his best not to let the shock he felt register on his features. Complication, indeed, he thought.    
  
  
\---

  
  
“I think it is a bad idea - and so does Cassian.” The droid - the one who’d tossed her about like a ragdoll - informed her. Jyn rubbed once at her throat. She  _ bet _ Cassian thought it was a mistake. For the moment she was alone with the man’s bag; unable to resist curiosity, or the need to know the man who presently held her captive, she rummaged through his bag. No holovids, no personal effects of any kind. Only a spare blaster, which she holstered without sparing a second thought.    
  
Nothing that would give her any indication as to the manner of man her soulmate was to be found anywhere in the bag. Jyn glanced back through the open door - he was walking back towards them now, and when he entered the shuttle he met her glance, briefly. Whatever passed between them was nothing like Jyn might have imagined all those years ago.   
  
It wasn’t joy; more like something heavy that squeezed her chest and made it hard to breathe. She was relieved when he looked away, and stepped into the cockpit.   
  
Jyn settled onto a bench, hand drifting towards the crystal she wore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY for so many updates coming so quickly! I'm just really motivated right now. There's a light at the end of the tunnel for this project, and so many NEW projects (a new drabble fic, a new series idea, going back to an old fic, etc.) I also have a lot of free time today and muse. So, there you have it.


	24. Soaked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic expounds on Cassian Andor's mission, as mentioned in Shock (22). You don't have to read Shock first to understand, but it might be helpful.

For once he had something to come home to - and Cassian Andor wasn't sure that was to his own benefit.

Slipping into his alternate identities was as easy as changing into another suit of clothing; it  _ had _ to be, in his line of work. The lines between Cassian Andor and Joreth Sward (and Sham Drakar and Norwan Tallon and all the others) were fine and fragile. Small habits, odd little quirks, a dash of prejudice, and he could be any one of them at any time. Losing himself was as natural as breathing, and it made him very good at what he did. It was important - critical, even - that he leave everything about Cassian Andor behind.

Yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to leave  _ Jyn. _

It was impossible not to think about how furious she'd be that he had gone undercover in an Imperial labor camp - finding the weaknesses, stealing information, locating certain important members of the Alliance and coordinating their release. The information he needed in particular hadn't yet come up, and the months were stretching longer and longer, and somehow the only thought that kept him going was how  _ livid  _ his lover - his wife - would be if she knew he was on  _ Wobani. _

 

\---

 

That first night, he'd laid on what passed for a bed, and watched the slow trickle of condensation roll down the wall of his cell. Was this where Jyn had spent the months before the Alliance had recovered her as an asset? He knew she'd been on _ Wobani, _ of course. But which cell? She didn't like to talk about her time here but, occasionally, after she'd woken up from a dream she would. Jyn had told him about the family she'd seen separated, tortured with death; the cellmate who had taken her own life right in front of Jyn; the way she'd damn near given up herself. Was this where she had lain awake, calculating how long she could survive?

He couldn't afford to think like that, and yet...there she was. Hovering at the edges of his mind, impossible to ignore.

Cassian squeezed his eyes shut, and forced himself to drift to sleep.

 

\---

 

Jyn had told him, once, that the days hard at work were the best. Cassian didn’t know if he agreed; watching the cruelty of their guards down the factory line as they forced sentients to work beyond the limits of their capability was so hard to swallow. He could almost understand the thick shell Jyn had worn when they had first met.    
  
Her empathy, her compassion, must have nearly killed her as she struggled to survive. His own need to  _ do something _ cut into him every time Cassian forced himself to look away.   
  
The beatings he took on the rare occasion he couldn’t resist left him breathless and broken on his bunk.

 

\---

 

Five months into the assignment, a fever set in. Cassian didn’t know, in his lucid moments, if he’d manage to survive it. The hard work, and scant rations, left him thin and hollow. He’d been more focused on finding the contacts he needed, swiping information where he could, sabotaging certain factory work as the opportunity had arisen - it hadn’t occurred to the Intelligence Officer that the conditions and hours and limited rest would attack him in  _ this _ fashion.   
  
Sweat, and the general dampness of his cell, made him shiver when he didn’t feel like he was burning alive.   
  
In his feverish dreams, he did his best not to murmur the name that hovered constantly on the tip of his tongue, and lingered at the front of his mind.

 

\---

 

“There was a rescue, once.” His new cellmate was chatty, a human male with broken teeth and wide shoulders that had once carried more muscle than they did now. “I was here for it - the Rebels, they blew up some shit, stole some tiny girl who was of a special interest to the Warden.”   
  
Cassian eyed the other man with what he hoped was a mild look; half disinterest and half boredom. “What use does anyone have for a small woman that they’d have to break her out of this hell hole?” He gestured vaguely. “I’ve been here for a few standard months, but I seem to remember that small women - especially desperate ones - are a dime a dozen.”   
  
In his mind, Cassian knew it wasn’t true. There  _ were _ no other women like Jyn, and how else could this man know about it?   
  
“Eh,” the cellmate shrugged. “Word was she was a fighter, and there were rumors that she scrapped for both sides. I don’t remember much spirit in her to be blunt.”   
  
Cassian’s blood turned cold. “You met her?”   
  
“I was a guard here.” There was a bitter twist to the former Stormtrooper’s lips as he leaned back on his cot. “The Empire doesn’t give a shit about people, no matter what side they’re on.”   
  
The Rebel regarded the former Imperial Guard with mistrust. “Mm.”   
  
\---

 

Torin - the former guard - watched Cassian too closely. He wondered sometimes if his new cellmate was a plant; perhaps someone on Wobani had caught wind of the extensive work he did here. Others, Cassian thought perhaps the paranoia of his work was catching up.   
  
Regardless, he tried to think of Jyn less.   
  
He wasn’t very good at it.

 

\---   
  
After nine months, Cassian Andor had begun to accept that he was going to die here. It was ironic, really. He’d never been caught - the mishap with Saw Gerrera’s forces notwithstanding - and yet, he was going to die in an Imperial prison camp he’d willingly agreed to enter. He was going to break his promise to Jyn. She was never going to forgive him.   
  
Maybe, if Draven told her after the war, if she discovered where he’d  _ gone _ , she would at least understand.

 

\---

  
As it turned out, Torin Chur was the missing piece. One night, after they’d both taken a sound beating for - actually, Cassian didn’t know what it was for - the old guard admitted that he was here because he’d  _ stolen _ something. Whenever they took him from his cell, it was to try to find out where he’d stashed  _ it _ .   
  
_ It _ turned out to be vital information about a rumored lost hyperspeed lane.   
  
The very thing Cassian had been sent here to find, after it had disappeared from the custody of Imperial Intelligence.   
  
That night, Cassian killed Torin Chur in his sleep - and  _ finally _ broke out  of the cell he’d allowed to hold him for nearly a year.   
  
He didn’t lie to himself; the strength it took to obtain his information and locate his stashed ship and powered-down drod, didn’t come from the adrenaline of a mission completed. It came from knowing he could finally go  _ home _ .


	25. Tangled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. I am SO bad at trying to write the steamy bits - like, this was supposed to go in the direction of like...Jyn and Cassian tangled up together? And then I lost that somewhere in the middle and it turned into this weird modern AU instead that has zero smooching, but lots of trust and feels and mild flirting?
> 
> Eh? 
> 
> It's LESS angsty/sad/bitter so...I guess that's probably a step in the right direction. >.>

He’d been watching her for at least an hour now; dark eyes set under heavy brows, brooding over the beer he’d been nursing slowly. Jyn had to give him credit - he was good at looking like he was interested in everything else in the bar  _ but  _ her. Now and again he’d lean forward and watch the poker game in the middle of the room, or he’d amble over to the old jukebox Magva’d had since Jyn could remember; none of the songs were more recent than the seventies. He’d even flirted mildly with a few of the other girls in the bar; they’d been happy to be on the receiving end of a man as polite as he was distant.   
  
But Jyn  _ knew,  _ from the moment she’d walked into the bar, she was the only one he was really watching.

A lifetime of watching her own shadow made it easier to pick up on than most would be - he was  _ good _ at this. Still, she’d noticed, and it wasn’t in her nature to shy away from confrontation. Magva had slid her one of the beers he seemed to like without comment, and then one more suited to Jyn’s tastes; the older woman didn’t do more than sigh lightly as Jyn carried the drinks over.

“You’ve been working on that one too long,” Jyn said abruptly as she approached his corner table; he had the seat that put the wall to his back, and it said volumes. She set the drink down in front of him, and then dropped into the chair that left her  _ own _ back exposed to the room. Jyn hated that, but she was determined not to let him see. “I think you’ve been watching me.”   
  
A sardonic smile tugged at his lips; it did nothing to dispel either the brooding or the mystery. “Don’t flatter yourself.”   
  
“Oh, I’m not.” Jyn waved away the slight. “I think we both know that’s not why you’ve noticed.”   
  
He dropped his gaze from hers, running deliberately over her full mouth - pulled naturally into something of an undesirable pout - and the slight jut of her chin. She could feel his gaze down her neck, to the cord that was visible above the neckline of her rough shirt. Jyn knew what he saw; a small woman with messy hair, days-old make-up, and dressed more for rough terrain than a big-city dive bar. Not the sort of woman a man tended to gravitate towards for a little drunk, anonymous, sex; not the sort of woman who looked like an easy victim, either.   
  
“I’ll humor you,” he said slowly. “Since you brought me the beer.”   
  
Jyn snorted. “I’m humoring  _ you _ because I’m honestly impressed at how committed you are.”   
  
This time the smile was more genuine, if fleeting, and she thought the slimy aspect of his facade might have slipped a little. Then it was back in place. “Why  _ have _ I apparently noticed you?”   
  
“Because you know who I am - or, I should say, you know who my father is.” It was the curse of her life, to always be known by the men who had shaped it. Galen, her biological father, had abandoned her in the wake of her mother’s death and set out to become the most fucking sought-after scientist of his time. Saw, the old friend of her mother’s who had scooped her up, had tried to turn her into his perfect little soldier and then abandoned her at the first sign of trouble. Without either man, nobody gave a  _ shit _ about Jyn Erso.   
  
He didn’t answer right away, taking the time to set aside his old beer - the bottle mostly empty - and then raising the new one to his lips for a generous swallow. Someone had taught him the value of patience - of silence - and Jyn could respect that. Even if she  _ hated _ it.

“I’m surprised you’re so free with that kind of information,” he said finally - slowly. Drawing each word out as if he had fully considered the weight of every syllable. “Do you announce to everyone who you are?”   
  
“Only the ones who stare,” she replied flippantly. “So, that leaves the matter of who you are. Not Interpol - I can usually smell those gits a mile off.”   
  
That smile was back, somewhere between sardonic and sincere; she had, it seemed, managed to amuse him. “Do they pester you often, Interpol?”   
  
“On my off-days.” Jyn settled her elbows against the table. She narrowed her eyes. “You...I can’t get a read on.”   
  
“That’s reassuring, since  _ apparently _ you think I’m interested in you.” He drank more of the beer. “Which, I assure you, I am not.”   
  
“Hm.” Jyn leaned back. “Well, if you’re not, I suppose I’ll just be on my way.”   
  
She stood from her chair, picked up the beer Magva had given her, and began to move away - until his hand, hard like a vice, settled on her wrist. Jyn resisted the urge to put him on the floor; she  _ hated _ unsolicited touch. Still, she was curious about who he was and what he wanted, and she allowed him to drag her back closer.   
  
“Fine.” That brooding expression was back. “Sit down, okay? I’ll tell you what you want to know - and then maybe you’ll tell me what  _ I _ want to know. Hm?”   
  
His accent had grown thicker with his frustration. Jyn knew  _ quite _ well what it was to be marked by the way you spoke, to ease off on a natural accent so that it couldn’t be used against you. Of course, her English lilt opened more doors than it closed. His, laced heavily with Spanish, probably didn’t. Intrigued, Jyn returned to her seat. “Who are you?”   
  
“I don’t work for anyone,” he said quietly. “I work  _ with _ others - but I’m just a journalist.”   
  
Jyn immediately dismissed the  _ just _ . She could see it now, with the bias of governments and institutions ripped away. His eyes were dark, but there was that manic gleam that belonged to idealists-turned-fatalists, and anarchists, and freedom-fighters - she knew what to look for, because she’d once looked much the same. She didn’t doubt he was a writer, though. His long fingers were calloused, and had the look of hard labor or killing (or both,) but they were long and she could easily imagine him bent over a desk, fingers feverishly racing across a keyboard, or wrapped around a pen.   
  
“What does a journalist want with  _ me? _ ” It was a demand, more than a question, no matter how softly she asked it.   
  
His eyes left hers again, and Jyn felt a flush rising where they slowly trailed along her cheek and her neck. “Just your time. Your story.”   
  
“My story, or my father’s?” This was a challenge, but also curiosity. No one had bothered to ask her what she’d been doing for the last six years (obtaining a combat medic certification in the UK before fleeing the country so that she could use it as she would in war zones; or smuggling people out of war zones; or forging documents; or stealing supplies and making sure they got where they were needed - no one was ever as interest in the story of  _ life _ as they were in  _ death _ and if her childhood and young adult life had taught her anything it was  _ that. _ )    
  
He studied her again, reaching out to tuck one of her long bangs behind her ear. There was an earnestness about him now that felt more real than the sarcasm or the slime; he  _ needed _ her to believe him and, foolish or not, she  _ wanted _ to. “Are they really different stories, Jyn?”   
  
No one had been so bold as to use her given name in a long time; Jyn could only blink helplessly.   
  
In the end, she left the bar with him. Magva - the closest thing she’d had to family in a  _ long _ time - gave her a disapproving look; but Jyn was a woman grown, and Magva had once left her abandoned, and didn’t have the right to tell Jyn  _ not _ to leave with him. His hand on her back, leading her back towards his hotel, was warm and unhurried. For all the world, they looked like they were a couple on their way back to a private room after a few drinks - even if Jyn didn’t  _ entirely _ look the part.   
  
His room, when they got there, was  _ not _ suitable for hot, anonymous, sex and Jyn felt a knot of tension in her chest loosen. A laptop sat on the desk, beside a large leather bag. Books, and old magazines, were scattered across the neatly-made bed, and Jyn had to wonder if the man had slept since he’d arrived in town.   
  
The man - she realized with a start that she still did  _ not _ know his name - hastened to pick up day-old clothes and towels (which he chucked into the bathroom and shut the door,) and then to clear a box of text books off the sole chair in the room. Jyn trailed behind him, peering into the box as he set it on an end table.  _ Galen Erso _ was printed plainly along the spine.   
  
“These are my papa’s,” she said quietly. Jyn had not seen one of her father’s textbooks since she had been a very little girl, standing on tip-toe in his study to stare at the endless shelves of thick tomes. “Where did you get them?”   
  
“Mm?” The man looked up, startled, as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh, those. I’ve been tracking those down for awhile.”   
  
Jyn nodded. “Many of them were pulled, after- after-”   
  
“After your father began working for corrupt governments and betrayed his own country? Yes, I imagine they were.” He wasn’t being cruel; but the calm, casual, way he spoke those truths bruised her nevertheless.   
  
“We had them all at home,” Jyn went on, as if he hadn’t cut her to the quick. “I think they all burned, when the house did.”   
  
Their little house, nestled in the hills of Denmark, had only been her home in the summers and when her mama had not been working in England. Danish had been Jyn’s first language, though she’d ruthlessly adopted her mother’s English accent when she had attended primary school. Being different was not always valuable.   
  
“What is your name?” Her question was abrupt, sharper than she might have indicated, the way her eyes were still glued to her father’s name, and the way her fingers trailed along the sleek spines of the books.   
  
The man paused, and waited for her to look at him. “You’re not at all what I expected.”   
  
“I don’t give a fuck  _ what _ you expected,” she countered. “I’d  _ like _ to know your name.”   
  
There was a marked hesitation, and then he nodded once. “Cassian.”   
  
Mollified, Jyn touched one last book, and then took the seat he’d cleared off for her. She leaned back, and studied him at her leisure, as he had done to her earlier. He was tall - just shy of six feet, probably - but his straight posture and thin frame made him seem taller. Those dark eyes were still brooding, and his angular face gave a similar impression as his hands - someone who had burned both ends of his candle for far too long and was a bit strained along the middle now.   
  
“You wanted a story?” She crossed her legs, laced her hands over her knees. “Where would you like me to begin?”   
  
Cassian’s eyes never left her, and he came to perch on the edge of the bed - sending several books toppling to the floor. He didn’t seem to notice. Now that his full attention was on her, Jyn found it a little hard to  _ breathe _ . Intense didn’t  _ begin _ to describe his expression.   
  
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” The suggestion was gentle, almost as if he knew what he was asking of her.   
  
Jyn swallowed hard. “The beginning of what? It’s...it’s all so  _ tangled _ you see. Papa, and his work, and Mama and  _ her _ work...and Saw….”   
  
All her life, she had known too much, had carried that knotty mess of people and events just under her collarbone, where her heart should be. How did she sort it out now? Why should she tell this  _ Cassian _ of whom she knew almost nothing? Her fingers reached up to press against her mother’s necklace, letting the edges dig into her chest.   
  
Jyn trusted him, and she didn’t even know  _ why _ . He reached out, letting his hand settle on the one still pressed against the top of her knee. “Why don’t you find one of the ends, and we’ll start there. We can untangle it all  _ together _ Jyn. I promise.”


	26. Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLIGHT TW: mild, but direct, reference to pregnancy and miscarriage.
> 
> This chapter is a gift for @thenewleeland for reading all my writing and always having the nicest things to say. <3 (and also for putting up with all my sad and upsetting AUs lol.)
> 
> "Secret" is a direct sequel to "Comfort" (11) and "Undercover" (12) and if you haven't read those...you'll probably want to skim them first. Otherwise...just enjoy? The next two updates will *also* be a continuation of this plot.

_you got more bones than a graveyard._

The old shuttle was cold; not just in temperature, either. Jyn sat wedged on a bench, staring almost blankly at the familiar surroundings of an Imperial Cargo Shuttle – it had been cobbled back together, and there was paint under a layer of grime that the Empire would never have allowed. She didn’t know what the thing had been used for during the war, but Jyn was willing to bet it had been rather illegal. To be honest, Jyn didn’t _want_ to know. The old man, and his ship, were just a means to an end – there wasn’t exactly a lot of traffic heading towards Yavin IV these days.  
  
A viewpoint over her bench showed the moon as they entered their approach, and Jyn’s fingers instinctively wrapped around the crystal until it bit into her palm. She closed her eyes, but the image of Yavin IV was burned into her mind and memory; it was achingly familiar, even after all these years (and how many had it been? Six? Eight?) Jyn felt as far removed from who she had been, as she had felt then from the girl who had once trained under Saw Gerrera. It was another lifetime, it seemed.  
  
Remembering her adoptive father was light picking at a barely-healed wound; it sent sharp throbs of pain through Jyn’s body – and yet, by coming here, she had already decided to stop running from the things that hurt her.

She kept her eyes closed, and her hand clenched around the bit of kyber, until the shuttle had completed its landing – a rough affair, when she had once known better pilots. Jyn opened her eyes, and dropped the crystal back to her chest. There was a soft _thud_ as Jyn’s feet hit the floor – she didn’t want to wait around to talk to the pilot, so she scooped up her rucksack in one hand and lifted the rough crate she’d crafted for the stray cat she couldn’t leave behind. (It had taken a great deal of intimidation and an exorbitant amount of credits to convince the pilot to allow her to bring the cat.) The shuttle bay opened, and Jyn stepped out into the oppressive humidity of Yavin IV without a word, or a backward glance.  
  
Looking back was the first step to running away.  
  
The rucksack was heavy against her back, and sweat already pooled at the base of her spine, but Jyn squared her shoulders, and began walking down the dirt lane that wound around the jungle. Every step squeezed her heart like a vice; she hadn’t seen him in so long – would she even be welcome anymore? From the shadows of the jungle, she watched the mist dissipate over farms; every now and then she could hear voices from the small community that had made this their home. (Shara Bey was here, with her son and husband. It was a large part of why he’d settled here – or that’s what Jyn suspected, anyway.) Eventually, a bend in the path took her away from the more settled part of Yavin, towards the wilderness of the moon.  
  
At the end of the lane, there was a modest dwelling. It was far enough from civilization to boast solitude, but close enough for help or _to_ help if trouble came knocking. Jyn respected the careful planning that had gone into the placement of the small farm. Her feet stopped at the edge of the path, however, as her fading courage failed her entirely. If she stepped onto this farm, it _really_ meant she was coming back – coming _home_ – and that there would be more pain (more vulnerability, she corrected,) to come. Jyn chewed her bottom lip until it was raw.  
  
Time was difficult to judge when anxiety, and hesitation, gripped her like this. It could have been a few minutes or a few _hours_ between her arrival, and the voice that finally broke through the ice that seemed to have formed on her joints and brain.  
  
“Jyn?” His voice was still as light – and as warm – as she remembered. “Is that really you?”  
  
Slowly she turned, and set down the cat’s crate just in time for Bodhi Rook’s long arms to envelope her in a fierce hug. He bent slightly at the knees, and she hooked her chin over his shoulder, and for a moment it was as if the last three and a half years had made no mark on them. “Yeah,” she whispered into the air behind him. “It’s me.”  
  
Bodhi’s arm was bruising her ribs, and her chin probably wasn’t doing him any favors, either, but they didn’t seem capable of moving for a long time. Jyn was prepared to admit, to herself, that she had missed her found family with an ache she’d tried so hard to ignore. Holding Bodhi now eased the edges of a pain she’d nearly forgotten existed.  
  
“I…I wasn’t expecting you,” Bodhi admitted as he pulled away from her grip. His hands – as fluttery and expressive as she’d remembered – settled on her shoulders in a comfortable grip. “Cassian said he’d found you – wouldn’t tell me _where,_ mind you – but he didn’t know if you were coming back.”  
  
“Neither did I,” Jyn lied easily. Cassian would have seen it, but Bodhi (who was, admittedly, to honest and genuine to be running with the likes of them) accepted the words at face value. “I’m not ready to be _back_ but…I thought I could stay with you for a few days.”  
  
“Of course.” Bodhi waved away the question (the tremor) in Jyn’s tone with a firm response, and a delighted smile. “It’s not much, but I guarantee you’ve slept in worse places.  
  
“That’s the safest bet you could make,” Jyn teased. Bodhi was a mean hand at cards, but he didn’t always have the required nerves (or the sauce) for extensive gambling – at least not outside his circle of friends. He still needled her over the times they’d had to finish a fight Jyn had started at a table; or rather, he _had_ before she’d disappeared on them all.  
  
Bodhi pulled away to heft the bag he’d been carrying, and Jyn was pleased to see the definition of wiry muscle underneath the brown skin of his arms; the paler patches of scars from burns were less stark now, and it seemed he’d finally regained all his strength now that peace had found them. His eyes were still large in his angular face – still riddled with the ghosts of Jedha (and Alderaan) – but Bodhi Rook, at least, had found his measure of well-deserved peace. Jyn picked up her own bag, and the crate, and followed her best friend into the house he had built for himself.

 

\---

 

“That is a cat,” Bodhi said, blinking at the large calico who had finally come out from hiding under (and behind) every piece of furniture he owned to lay in a fading patch of sunlight.  
  
“She’s a fucking nightmare dressed in soft fur,” Jyn corrected with half a smile. “She found me when I set up shop on Bothawui and I…”  
  
The words clogged Jyn’s throat.  
  
“You couldn’t leave her behind,” Bodhi finished for her. The heavy blanket of her secrets covered them both in that moment, before the former pilot went on quietly. “She’s very lovely. You know there were cats in Jedha City, when I was a boy.”  
  
It was the first time Jyn could recall her friend speaking so openly about his home, at least sober, and she leaned forward to brace her elbows against her thighs. His eyes were star-bright with the tears and ghosts and memories of the destroyed city, but the pain was an old one – she could tell.  
  
“They used to keep them around some of the temples. My mother had to send me back to return strays on more than one occasion.” He dragged his gaze from the floor to the cat, who had rolled belly-up to catch the warm light better.  
  
Watching Bodhi watch the cat made up Jyn’s mind; the dratted thing would be better off here, on the farm, and perhaps feline company would soften the loneliness of his self-imposed solitude.

 

\--- 

 

Night did not bring any relief from Yavin IV’s humidity, although the temperature cooled somewhat. The cat – whom Bodhi had hesitantly begun trying names out on – had taken over the bed after their dinner, and the humans had taken up seats on the hill behind Bodhi’s house. Jyn lay back against the grass, while Bodhi sat beside her, finishing the fruit he’d offered for desert.  
  
“You know,” Jyn remarked into the stillness of the evening. “These stars never fucking change.”  
  
“Hm?” Bodhi tossed the pit, nibbled utterly bare in the fashion of one who had gone hungry before, in the opposite direction of the garden.  
  
“I came here once, before, with Saw.” Just saying his name was like swallowing broken glass, but if Bodhi Rook could lay his demons to rest, then so could she. “I was just a little girl, and – well, I snuck out a lot to look at the sky. I liked that it was different on every world.”  
  
“New, but the same,” Bodhi agreed quietly. His fingers, sticky with the juice of his fruity snack, wrapped around hers. She squeezed.  
  
“Sometimes I feel like that.” The confession was barely more than a whisper, but from the grip on her hand, she knew Bodhi had heard her. “New name, new world, new mission…but all the same flaws. I never learned how to fix myself.”  
  
“You don’t need fixing, Jyn.” It was probably the sternest she’d ever heard Bodhi speak. He leaned forward to hover immediately over her line of sight. “We know who you are. We love you anyway.”  
  
Jyn closed her eyes, but she felt Bodhi’s lips settle against her forehead in a brotherly kiss. “You just have to stop shutting us out. It’s okay if you need to run…we just would prefer to know you’re coming back.”  
  
Cassian, she suspected, would feel differently about her need to run. Still, she appreciated the sentiment.

“Can I tell you a secret, Bodhi?” Her eyes were still closed, but she could hear the soft, non-verbal assent humming in his throat.  
  
Jyn didn’t speak for a long minute, unsure how to begin. Bodhi’s hand never left hers, and she was grateful for his constant, encouraging support. (Not just now; Bodhi had been her biggest cheerleader since the day they’d met.)  
  
“There was almost a baby,” she finally said quietly. “I found out when Cassian was away, and…honestly, things were so dangerous and _tenuous_ it seemed better to wait to tell anyone…”  
  
His fingers were a vice now, like the one that had nearly crushed her heart earlier. “Oh, _Jyn_.”  
  
She could hear it in his voice; he was making sense of all the events that had followed, piece by piece.  
  
“Everyone was off-world when it happened, and it seemed best to just keep it to myself.” Jyn’s voice was low, and raw. Although first Baze – and later Cassian – had admitted to knowing what she’d lost, this was the first time she had ever spoken about it directly. “But then…”  
  
“It was eating you alive.” Again, there was a firmness in Bodhi’s voice. She could feel him stand, and then tug on her with those incongruously strong arms until she found her own feet. For the second time that day, she was wrapped up in his arms. “Jyn, I’m _sorry_.”  
  
No one had said that to her. Not even Baze, or Cassian, and the genuine compassion and empathy in Bodhi’s voice was almost too much. Time moved slowly, as she soaked her best friend’s – her _brother’s_ – shirt with her silent tears.

 

\--- 

 

It was over breakfast, several days after Jyn had admitted what she’d lost, that Bodhi finally decided to bring up the elephant in the room. She blinked, spoon half hanging out her mouth, as the words sank in.  
  
_When are you going to see Cassian?_  
  
She tried to swallow around the food in her mouth, and choked, and it ended up being ten minutes (and a nearly-broken spine as Bodhi pound on her back) later before she could finally reply. “I don’t actually know where he is.”  
  
“For someone who is such a good liar, you are also such a _shit_ liar,” Bodhi pointed out, trying to bite off the smirk at the corners of his mouth. “You know where he is.”  
  
Jyn rolled her eyes. “Bodhi, how could I _possibly_ -“  
  
“Kriff, Jyn.” Bodhi waved his own spoon at her, gesturing wildly enough that his cat (and new best friend) leapt off his lap with all the dignity she could muster. “Where _else_ would Cassian be?”  
  
Finding Cassian, then, meant traveling to the heart of the New Republic; which was one of the last places in the galaxy she wanted to be. Jyn sank lower in her seat. “I’m not ready, yet.”  
  
“You never _will_ be.” Bodhi pointed the spoon directly at her, now. “If being ready is the first step to recovering, nobody would ever do it.”  
  
Bodhi would know, Jyn realized. She chewed on her lip again, still raw from her anxiety several days ago when she had first arrived at Bodhi’s new home.  
  
“And stop chewing on your lip, you’re going to make a sore.” The bossy tone was exaggerated, and light. So Jyn threw her bread roll at him, like the adults they absolutely were.  
  
Cassian could wait just a _little_ bit longer, couldn’t he?


	27. In Another Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so sorry about the delay in updates. Writer's block, and then starting a new job so abruptly, made things really hectic here for a minute. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this chapter (as promised it's the continuation of Comfort, Undercover, and Secrets.) It is, once again, dedicated to @thenewleeland who has been such a supportive reader and has endured so many of my sad fics and deserves some happier endings now. ^_^
> 
> Next update (which I'm hoping to write yet tonight!) will be the conclusion of both this AU and this collection of drabbles. I have enjoyed writing these, and I have appreciated so much all of your support and kind words! I'll be beginning a new series of prompts, and I have a few other rebelcaptain projects going on as well. So feel free to check those out!

One of the children had left the door open; Chirrut could feel the pleasant breeze that worked its way through the opening. For the moment, the small orphanage (always more full than it really should be,) was quiet; all of the older children had left for school, and the three toddlers were sleeping heavily on the mat they shared. Off to his left, Chirrut could hear the deep, easy, breathing of the innocent while they slept.

When Baze had suggested retiring somewhere to spend their remaining years in quiet, Chirrut was more than certain that opening an orphanage was not what he’d had in mind. They both still often wondered about what had happened to the children they had gotten off Jedha, and the unknowing had weighed more heavily on Baze than it had on himself. Still, the first child had found them on Chandrila, cold and hungry and so  _ terribly _ young; Baze had simply scooped the boy up without even waiting for Chirrut to comment, and they had taken him back to their humble dwelling for hot soup and a warm place to sleep.

The gruff old Guardian hadn’t even complained when Chirrut had quietly suggested they become the guardians of something that had a future, unlike the Kyber temples that were now long gone. Although they hadn’t discussed it, Chirrut felt that Baze returning to the faith of his youth had much to do with it; that, and the man liked children better than he let on.

Relishing the present quiet - a rare treat, when one was raising no less than a dozen children - Chirrut settled comfortably to begin meditating. He felt better when he’d had a chance to settle into the Force; he could sense things more clearly, kept a more open mind and a better spirit. Time passed without meaning as Chirrut basked in the reality of the Force in all things, drifting along the feelings and tethers of this world until - that was a familiar presence. A strong one. A star, with kyber for its heart. A tender smile worked its way onto his lips, as Chirrut returned his awareness once more to the room, and the steady breathing of small children, and the smoldering light that he always associated with his partner.

“We should make tea,” he said quietly. Chirrut could hear Baze shift. “We’ll have company soon.”

  
\---

 

They were ready for Jyn when she arrived. There was a marked hesitation, a timidity that Chirrut would never have ascribed to the woman years ago. It was almost, he thought, as though she was uncertain of her welcome.

It was Baze who spoke first, steady and deep. “Little Sister, you kept us waiting.”   
  
The light around her wobbled, shrank in on itself. Chirrut waited for the rest of the other Guardian’s words, knowing more would come.   
  
“I made tea.”

Chirrut snorted, and passed his staff from hand to hand. He could feel Jyn’s attention move onto him, and he smiled at her; humor crinkling the corners of his eyes. “What Baze means, is that we are happy for your light once more. We always knew you would come back.”   
  
Some of the tension bled out of the room; he could almost  _ hear _ her shoulders sag with relief and she stepped further into the small dwelling - towards the table Baze had set with tea and several of the biscuits the old women across the way had been bringing them once a week since they’d moved in. (It was, perhaps, unfair to call them  _ old women _ , Chirrut reflected. After all, they were of an age with both Guardians. Or rather, at some point he and Baze had  _ also _ become old.)   
  
“Sit,” Chirrut urged, before gracefully sinking onto one of the cushions the Twi’lek girl - Alithea - had made for them. She was quiet good with a needle; Chirrut could feel the pride and sense of self-worth she had put into her work even now. Baze and Jyn settled on their seats with less grace. “You have seen Bodhi, I think. How is he?”   
  
Jyn let out a small gasp, and a wry chuckle. “Someday you’re going to stop surprising me.”   
  
“Only if you let me,” Chirrut said steadily.   
  
“He’s good,” Jyn said slowly by way of answer. There was a pause - Chirrut imagined her taking a drink of the tea Baze broke out for happy occasions - and then she continued. “He has a farm, I think he likes watching things grow. He’s probably good at that, you know. He’s quiet and steady and that’s good for anything that needs to...you know...grow.”   
  
She was uncomfortable, trying to explain herself without having to use the words.   
  
“He has a cat now!” The addition was triumphant in tone. “I brought her back with me, but I think she likes a farm better than endless travel.”   
  
“I imagine he’s happy for the company,” Chirrut acknowledged. Then he let the silence descend; Jyn, rolling the edge of her cushion nervously between her fingers. Baze, who tended to let Chirrut do the talking, deciding what he wanted to say. As for himself, Chirrut let his mind drift. It felt as though her presence had brought his mind (all of their existences) back into alignment, drifting felt  _ easier _ and waiting was less a constant strain on his nerves. Bodhi had been the catalyst, and Cassian Andor the head, but Jyn Erso was the heart of Rogue One, and things had been running without fire and fuel since her departure.   
  
Finally, Baze set his empty cup on the low table. “You are still a fool, Jyn.”   
  
He couldn’t see her, but Chirrut  _ felt _ the woman flinch; and yet, she seemed a little more steady for the hard tone and the harder words. It had become apparent (some time ago,) that Baze and his blunt nature  _ worked _ with Jyn.   
  
“I knew you were going to be disappointed,” she muttered against what must have been the rim of her own tea cup.   
  
Baze leaned forward; his hand brushed against Chirrut’s arm as he reached over the table. “No, Little Sister.” The sound of skin brushing skin filled Chirrut’s ears; Baze had taken Jyn’s hand. “Everyone must take their own path, you needed to heal.”   
  
Silence, again. Baze didn’t move, and neither did Jyn, but Chirrut could smell the sudden saline in the air. He, too, reached across the table and caught one of the large tears rolling down Jyn’s face on his thumb.   
  
“So tell us,” Chirrut asked quietly. “Have you healed?”   
  
To his left, Baze snorted. “You are  _ also _ a fool.” The large guardian pulled away from Jyn, and got to his feet with knees that creaked like old trees in the dead of winter. “We all know where she must go for that.”   
  
Chirrut let his hand fall back to the table, slowly wrapped it around his rapidly-cooling cup of tea. “Ah, yes. In that case, Jyn. May I suggest booking a flight to Nakadia?”   
  
She didn’t speak at first, and when she did, the fire was back in her words. “Yes, actually. I think that sounds like a good idea.”   
  
In another universe, Chirrut thought, that light of hers might have gone dark entirely. But, by the mercy of the Force, it had not in  _ this _ one.


	28. Gratitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A year later...and we're finally done? I'm so sorry for the lengthy delay in completing this work. I'll be honest - mental illness has worked me over in the last 16 months or so, and although I can't say that I'm *better* I feel like I'm finally moving into a place where I can be creative again. I hope that some of you who followed me on this journey are able to come back and see its completion, but to be honest, I wrote this for myself. I needed to prove to myself that I could, and I have, and that means a lot to me.
> 
> Anyway, as promised, the long-awaited conclusion to Comfort (11), Undercover (12), Secret (26), and In Another Universe (27).

Every moment before this, of the last three and a half years, had been building to this. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier for Jyn to stand here; the urge to bolt had  _ always _ nipped hard at her heels, but she didn’t want to do that anymore. It was time to put that time of her life behind her. (Past time, really, but Chirrut’s last words before putting her on a ship were to be kind to herself and she was  _ trying. _ )

The building housing the offices of members of the Galactic Senate was beautiful; Nakadia itself was an organic world, and it showed in the architecture of its cities. Narrow streets carved out paths between hand-cut stone buildings, and the backdrop of imperfect art and human error was more appropriate than she wanted to admit. The corridor that ultimately wound its way around to Princess Leia’s suite of offices was as beautiful as the others. Someone had found some Alderaanian art somewhere, and Jyn forced herself to study the watercolor; to count the petals of the flowers, guess at the technique that had created layer upon layer of sheer fabric into the gown of the Alderaanian queen.

Jyn had been recognized at some point, she knew. Security wasn’t exactly  _ lax _ and they had studied her so very carefully at the lobby when she’d mentioned having a meeting with a member of Princess Leia’s chief of staff. Once, years ago, Jyn Erso had been something of a hero, she supposed, and although Leia had always been the face of the rebellion...Rogue One hadn’t been entirely anonymous. Still, she hadn’t had the nerve yet to force herself to enter the Princess’ offices to find Cassian.

When Chirrut had mentioned that he was working for Leia now, it made complete sense. The shared language and culture was certainly there, but also their commitment to a better world. Cassian could trust that Leia wouldn’t ask him to murder innocent, helpless, men in back alleys, and Leia could trust that Cassian wouldn’t put a knife in her back. It was so perfect, that Jyn had almost balked at coming here.   
  
She had robbed Cassian Andor of his choices once, however. Jyn wouldn’t repeat that mistake for anything in the galaxy.

In the end, Jyn never made it to the imposing door that stood between herself and her goal. She continued to stare at the painting, discovering the sort of kinship with the random ripples in the fish pond, that indicated she’d stared at it for far to long. Which is how he managed to sneak up on her - or so she’d say in the future.

“You know, when one of the aides said an old war hero had crawled out from under a rock, I didn’t imagine it was you.” Cassian’s voice was cool; not the way it had been the last time she’d spoken to him - icy and hard. It was soft now, and she shivered, bumps raising along the back of her neck. “Not until they said she was mesmerized by this painting, anyway.”   
  
At this, Jyn snorted. “Because I’m the type to spend a lot of time looking at old paintings.”   
  
“No,” he asserted softly, leaning forward to speak directly into her ear. “Because it made me think of you, when we bought it. I hoped you’d like it.”   
  
“Hope.”   
  
This was a familiar banter, and it was like stepping into a worn pair of boots; comfortable, and broken-in, and bracing in their own way. Only this time, Cassian was close enough that she could almost  _ feel _ the smirk that always tugged one corner of his mouth upward. “Yeah, hope.”   
  
Her hand went to the necklace, squeezing the kyber hard between her fingertips as she pretended to continue studying the painting; she couldn’t actually see it through the blur of tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, uselessly, her hands fluttering unconsciously in a perfect imitation of Bodhi. “Cassian, I...you know, this was so much  _ easier _ with the others.”

Cassian moved then, into her line of sight, as he leaned against the wall next to the painting. “That’s not really surprising, is it?”

Jyn looked away, unable to stand the calm acceptance on his face. It’d be easier if he was angry, if he was looking for a fight. She knew how to deal with  _ that _ Cassian, even if it left them both feeling raw, and broken, and sharp along the edges. It had always been the steadiness, the way he absorbed her moods without comment, that set her off-stride. “No,” she finally muttered. “I suppose not.”   
  
“Hey,” his tone was still soft, his rough fingers gentle as they brushed against her jaw, inviting her to turn her head to look at him. He was also so fucking considerate like that. “I hope you didn’t come here looking for more judgment. I won’t say it didn’t - hasn’t - hurt, but we’re past that now.”   
  
Gratitude, warm and alien, uncurled inside of Jyn. She blinked hard to clear her vision as she turned to face Cassian again.   
  
“I…” Jyn sniffed, raising her arm to wipe her nose against her sleeve. “I came here because I want...I want to come  _ home _ .”   
  
Cassian moved his weight away from the wall, his arms reaching for her; pulling her close so that she could bury her face into his chest. “Do you know what it’s called, this painting?”   
  
When she shook her head, Cassian whispered a word in Alderaanian - slightly different from his native Festian, but still warm and  _ right _ on his tongue. “It means,” he added. “Homecoming.”   
  
She laughed then, almost more a sob than anything, and turned her head so she could look at the soft colors once more. No wonder, it’d made him think of her. No wonder he’d compared it to feeling  _ hopeful _ . She wanted to express her gratitude that he was welcoming her back. Wanted to be as poetic as Chirrut, as earnest as Bodhi. But Jyn Erso wasn’t those things, and so she let the grip of her own arms around Cassian Andor speak for her; and she knew, in the way that his nose bumped against the top of her head, that he understood.


End file.
